Ana Lia Zaldivar (March 1,1994 / Honduras)
To paint as an artist,
You have to be the most detailed painter,
you have to admire every characteristic of your muse,
and therefore, you have to copy the exact beauty into your canvas.
Once, long time ago,
I tried to be an artist,
My muse: your beautifule face,
now i had to picture you into my canvas.
I grabbed my material,
now my paintbrush was going to make art.
As I drew you and detailed your face,
I realized the perfection it had.
So there I was painting,
painting the most exraordinary piece of art that has ever existed.
A painter falling in love with her canvas,
so in there was your face.
I pictured your face once and over again.
Every brushstroke was a slowly and careful move,
I drew your beautiful brown eyes,
I drew your perfect and lovely smile.
I was making sure everything was going to be as perfect and beautiful as you,
suddenly I stopped and dropped my paintbrush.
This painting had to be burn,
and so the artist had to be punished.
I realized that it was imposible and irrelevant to make anything as perfect as you.
you only come to see this perfection when the one you love is the one you are looking at.
Comments about this poem (The Painter by Ana Lia Zaldivar )
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