How Cold You Must Be Poem by Sophie Kennedy

sometimes i see the subtle imprints of them in on my canvas
an ear, a fingerprint, maybe a profile
i have always been an awful painter.
i could never make enough colors to fill in what i saw
i could never replicate the visions
of how they looked upon me
through my minds eye
they are always shifting, changing
changing things with them
valuing, moving, living
it is so difficult to capture the moving growing image
and all its complex and subtle shades
but gazing upon you,
is almost a breath of relief
or perhaps a gasp of horror
or something akin to a sigh
because you, with your cold eyes
and your twisting words
that deny everything
even your own existence
to capture an essence such as yours
would be so easy
i would paint everything black