I find you really nice and cute and all,

But I doubt you'd ever love me for the colors

that hide inside of me.

I could tell you that I’m burgundy

And you’ll laugh back, saying “red”. 

I could show you the night sky, splattered with stars

         and poked by a moon,

But you’d only point out the darkness.

You’d find no light between those spaces,

Just like you’d find no art in my ideas.

You’d look at me and think I'm crazy,

I'd chuckle and think the same;

But you'd take it all so literal,

And I'd be playing some mind game. 

I could pour out my heart and soul,

And you’d scream, “What a mess!”

You’d rush to get the nearest mop,

And put my heart back in my chest.

I could show you the love

A child feels but doesn’t know about,

And you’d only love me ‘cause I’m “cute and funny”.

I could tell you that I am an ocean, waiting for exploration.

And you’d only dally in the shallows.

I could show you this poem—

Words laced with images,

And you still wouldn’t get the picture.

So I don’t even bother.

Maybe some art is meant to dwell in the mind,

And never roam free.

So I hide it because I love you,

And I think you love me.

Screams of art—you never hear—

Our hearts so near, and minds apart.

I hide myself in the moments you look at me,

And I scream in silence when you leave. 

'Cause there's so much art you need to hear about,

But you just want to joke around and make out.