Boy, you already know that you are a work of art.
Even with eyes blanketed in darkness, I can draw the contours of your face.
You are given to indecision, the way you would redo the smallest details over and over again. Some days it’s the hue, some days it’s the bold streaks you can’t seem to perfect.
There’s no start over, and so you make do. Every day a little fidget, a spot and blob. Until both the beginning and the end gets lost in the arms of each other.
I could see it then, your hesitancy, even with the arm outstretched as you said hello on our first day.
Boy, I hope that one day you’ll decide for yourself that it’s finally okay to let this canvas be, no need for any more vertical knife cuts into your papery skin.
It’s about time that you let this painting dry for a little while.