From Giotto to Michelangelo, Rafael and Van Gogh,
Da Vinci, Rembrandt, Cezanne, Dali and Picasso,
Botticelli, Pollock, Velasquez, Vermeer and Monet,
To Renoir, Rubens, Kadinsky, Klimt, Warhol and Manet,
There's no great painter I wouldn't emulate,
Just to paint your many ways and embrace your lovely face,
Just to be near you for the simple chase,
Even if it took all the hours in my life for this wet love to dry,
It would be priceless and worth every every risk like playing Russian roulette with a die,
Each brush stroke would define this devine,
Feeling from the depths or simply my heart,
Your more than a muse you are my art,
As well as my spark in the dark,
Yet I've always been more of a writer than an artist but is it any less of an art,
Can I paint something out like the Dutch Mona Lisa and make something jump start,
Through words alone as I guide them down the highway of how I feel,
Or will my attempts crash and burn and I'll be just an icon on its highlight reel,
I want more out of this like someone searching for a new color,
But what if my emotions canvas every single color,
Are my feelings only dismal and black,
I know there's more to this and that's a fact,
Yet why do I feel even when I color your world its only in white and black,
Allow me to paint your world or at least draw me in it,
Retracing me into the very image of ideal guy because rethinking every word I really meant it,
All so allow me to write, paint or draw you,
And if all that fails at least let me fall for you
