If I was a painting
I would be a white canvas
Stretched
Too, too tight across a too small frame
I would be a twirling mess of colour
Of bright and light and
Everything
I would be sharp lines
But soft focus
My brush strokes would be intense
Passionate
Full of heart
But uncertain
And some people would linger
Stare
Too deep
Into my emptiness
While others would pass me by
“She was trying too hard”