if i could draw
the images
i see so clearly
i would never
write another line
i wouldn’t have
to open myself
to the torrent of words
wouldn’t have
to be beaten mercilessly
one moment
gently held
the next
i would scratch the pencil
against the page
to convey
the infinite sorrow
in every moment
of beauty
the filthy aspects
of this human
etch with venom
instead of spitting
into the wind
if i could draw
i would leave
sketches of her
for the world
to marvel over
on every surface
in every medium
instead of in tedious odes
her eyes
will never see.

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