It’s not you,
It’s me.

It’s my need to wrap your words around your neck.
To squeeze so tight
That all you have breath left for is to say
“you’re right.”

Because I am
And you know I am
And it shouldn’t be this way.

You carve me a picture of your love
And I run my fingers over the grooves
Thinking nothing of the splinters that stick me.

Don’t paint me another portrait with no likeness to reality
Admit it.

Pictures and sculptures are all we have.
Beautiful idols that take the place of what isn’t there.