If a picture is worth a thousand words,
then the words must be worth the picture.
Yes, I'd trade a thousand words for a picture of you.
Too bad I'm completely inept at drawing.
Everytime I try to doodle away the loneliness,
pencil marks deface porcelain,
and silk becomes chicken-scratch hair.
Everytime I try to sketch away your absence,
I grimace at mediocrity,
knowing mere lead can't do you justice.
That's a strange word... justice...
Is it justice to you or me to keep your missing face only in my dreams?
That my only consolation is in unconsciousness?
Is it really justice to have the thousand lonely words... but not the picture?
Author notes
Not sure if I like this or not.
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