Canvas.

I stammered and stuttered when I spoke.
I couldn’t hold attention, and when I did,
My words were blurted, urgent and jumbled,
My pronunciations required correcting
And I was always in a hurry to finish
What I had to say, so I could take cover
In the safety of my observing silences;
Verbal speeches were never my forte.
But I had a voice that wanted recognition
And I decided to make it heard by making it read.
So I resorted to writing my heart out-
Illegible and scrawny as my longhand was-
My thoughts were always too far ahead
For my slow hands to keep up with competently.
So I persevered with my quest for a clearer voice
And I persisted until my script was distinct,
Until I successfully mastered my skills.
But there were times I could not write,
Words failed me and so did my vocality.
I was preparing to shrivel up and bury myself
Into the depths of my thoughts and dreams
And envelop myself with my lonesome silence
Until I realized that you would understand
Not only my words, but also my silences
And you would recognize my signs and
Expressions. You were meant to do that, after all:
Provide a catharsis to those who had no words.
You understood every change in my strokes
And you absorbed every element of myself
That I offered to your welcoming surface.
You patiently remained and allowed me
To expose my mind and soul and leave it displayed
As a masterpiece on your blankness.
It really was a selfish love and I took advantage,
Using you when I had nothing else,
Nurturing and loving you into beauty and life,
And when I needed you no more, I left you alone,
Unclothed and unfed. But you never wavered.
You knew I’d always return, didn’t you?
You knew I could never distance myself
From corrupting the purity of your whiteness
With the absurd, inexplicable chaos of my mind.

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