Of what is beautiful…

Is that of which you have taken for yourself to draw from… only to return said things in ways that drive straight into my heart… and I am drawn to you, but you are withdrawn…

Was it that you captured me or my likeness?

So skilled in being able to produce portraits, displaying them to the world… but I beg you to examine your own works more closely to see if I was indeed sitting still… waiting for you to finish, impatiently pleading to see how you truly see me…

If you’ve ever seen me at all…

Close your eyes and think… let the absence of of my presence sink in and probe the darkness for my image…

Can you see me? Or shadows of might have been…?

Realize that in the time I gave to you… I was waiting for the perfect moment to give you my heart…

You thought you it was yours to take… But it has always been mine to keep…