Ever since I knew my words could paint pictures, I have been painting a portrait of you. A woman my heart yearned for, yet my eyes haven’t met.
My words have been painting a three-dimensional portrait of beauty that turned the sunrise green with envy. Trees bow to you, with full knowledge they are not worthy to be in your presence.
The confidence in your walk is sometimes mistaken for arrogance, yet even the rose petals pave your way with full knowledge the red carpet isn’t majestic enough for beauty as earthly as yours.
Ever since I knew my words could paint pictures, I have been painting a portrait of you. A woman whose beauty birds of the sky sing love songs for. Serenading Ballads that melt hearts of stone and make even the bitter and bruised wanna fall in love. Love songs so beautiful, yet these love songs worship your beauty knowing very well they are not as beautiful as you.
My words have been painting a portrait of a heart so warm, men go to battle just to be close to it. A heart so warm, a nation unites around it. A heart so warm, I long to come as close as a hug. A heart so warm it’s overflowing with love.
Your gentleness is sometimes mistaken for a weakness, yet it is this very touch that heals emotional wounds. It is that motherly timidity that would inherit the Earth and put boastfulness to shame.
Ever since I knew my words could paint pictures, I have been painting a portrait of you. A portrait so elaborate and colourful, yet missing a face. Fortunate is this paper and ink, for they will see the indescribable beauty of your face.
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