Poem #124

I was never good in art class but yet
for you I tried to behave as a descendant of Picasso.
I took a canvas and made you a painting
to explain my emotions better, to make you
see how much it hurts when you do some things,
to let you know what I need more of so that I
could feel safe and loved around you.

I thought you were such a good guy because you
tried to understand and tried to be better but then
I realized I was the girl that stooped so low as to
be forced to draw you a map to my heart because
you couldn’t find it yourself. I was handing you everything
I was, everything I am and everything I will be and
you were still wandering without appreciating this gift.

10 replies on “Poem #124”

With great pride we give the best of ourselves believing they will fill all our hearts voids, to decorate it with a rivers of colors and a plethora of loves emotions like we’ve never known, only to be disappointed by the increased hollowness of their efforts and adroit ignorance as they mistreat our cherished offering as if it were nothing worth having, leaving us wounded, chillier and resembling, Jupiter.

I do not think that creating a map for someone to your heart can be considered as stooping low. At the most, it’s a desperate desire to be loved. That’s what we do when we cannot love ourselves; we search for it outside of us. It is interesting though how, even after we know how we want to be loved, we do not love ourselves the same way. We find it easier to expect others to love us by helping them know how we want to be loved instead of taking the effort to love ourselves. Also, that’s the thing about things that come easily to us, we seldom appreciate them. We humans like to discover things ourselves.


Picasso’s a good analogy for feelings. They always seem to be discombobulated.

Guys get lost easily. If she’s drawing him a map to her heart, she obviously wants him there. Sometimes you can put things in our hands, and we still don’t get it.

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