If I were a painting, captured on canvas, alone in the portrait, i would stand, and brush strokes bold, yet soft as a whisper, the work of a feminine hand, caught in a still life, surrounded by shadows, or lost in a background of blue, if i were a painting, my price would be pain, and the artist would have to be you, i imagine the colors, would all run together, if you ever allowed me to cry, so don't paint the tears, just let me remember me, without you in my eyes, it's only the frame, that holds me together, or else I would be falling apart, if i were a painting, i wouldn't feel
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