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.