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”