I married you for a painter, not knowing your creations are but a lie
your bold strokes cover all my vulnerabilities; and I know you do it consciously
show my locks messy as they are, paint me two shades darker if you really dare
deepen the eye bags I have and don't thin out my waist for appeal
all these changes you make; I can't even recognise myself in the portrait
you draw what you wish I was, and I hate the very core of that thought
brushes are a language you're fluent in; not one I understand too well, unfortunately
why put the art of us in glass cages? when they could be outdoors, shimmering
I'd rather have you paint on cardboard but it's not like you ever listen to me
tell me- what good are those paintings if my fingers can't trace their outlines?
but you're too occupied saving our relationship for however long you can
so you turn down my offer of dancing on the sinking titanic
I find your reflections of us shallow at best
the lights are dreamy, poses uncomfortable and scenes too fake
all the numerous vivid abstracts you make narrate no tale
the random moments you begin to paint me are exhausting
why must we document it all and not just live for ourselves a second?
come lie with me for eternity with no worry to capture it on a canvas
there is no use being immortal if we weren't an epic romance
communicating is your worst nightmare, in your work it shows
you paint in silence for hours adding layers to something that's already good
I hate posing endlessly but I bite my tongue for the sake of us
a writer needs to vent and so I pick up the pen instead
to fill my feelings in the crevices where your paint leaves out as it dries
weaving the most intimate scenes of us, pouring truths we're too afraid to say aloud
your paintings are too pretty for me to be in them
yet your sentiments warm my heart whenever we're together
it would've been pleasing to not have you so engrossed in fictitious art
perhaps we could inspire real masterpieces if we spent more time together
you don't like to talk so I don't get to say it to you but
I love you despite everything, and I hope my poems show it
woahr. no words here really. youve been improving and it shows. this was so uniquely captivating, i love this so much!!
Thanks for the kind words, they really help me get my confidence!
aw yw! youre a wonderful poet and youre just getting better and better! im definitely tuning in for more after reading this one!! keep writing :>
The central concept is genuinely original—a writer married to a painter, two artists loving in incompatible languages.
This is a raw piece of writing that explores the tension between idealized art and the messy reality of love.
It is a deeply relatable piece for anyone who has felt "curated" by a partner rather than truly seen.
Lines like "communicating is your worst nightmare, in your work it shows" explain what the poem should demonstrate. The second half weakens a strong observation.
Some lines run very long without rhythmic payoff. This reads closer to prose broken arbitrarily. Consider whether each line break earns its pause.
This is purely my personal reading. Art is inherently subjective—what feels like a flaw to one reader might be a deliberate choice that resonates with another. Take what's useful, discard what isn't.
Thanks a lot for the feedback! You sure raise some valid points, I'll be sure to work on them in rhe future.
I really like the direction this poem is headed. It has a peaceful vibe.
I like the romantic tone. It's not a poem of giant passion or desire, but a poem of hope, quiet, and kindness. The ine "brushes are a language" uses art as a great analogy for how sweet a passion can be, like painting a picture of someone you love. Is there you don't love? Why do we care? Love is old as time itself, and we have different ways of understanding it. To understand love is to understand what it means to be human, and that's the whole point of this story.
The poem is all lowercase, but that gives it a unique flavor. I like when poems are unique, and not when they're trying too hard to be edgy or sad or whatever. The lowercase font gives the impression that the passion is quiet, but still strong, just like the subject of the poem. Love is very subtle at first, but once you get into it, you become a better person at the end. It reminds us there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and we should realize it.
Lastly, the title. "My lover paints me" means that love can change you, but noticed intentionally. Love cpmakes you realize you found your other half, and you don't know where else you 're going. Otherwise, you might be lonely, and it sucks when you realize it. Even if you don't ove anyone, you can still like anyone, and that's a good thing. Love isn't about finding another partner or your other half. It's about being comfortable, safe, and knowing how much of a better person you are.
Overall, the poem has a good start and I hope you improve in the future. 5/5
Well I may not have intended to be taken in such a positive light, but I appreciate your perspective on this. Thanks for the review!
great minds think alike! <3 and once i loved an artist
love this, alex!!
I'm afraid I can't view it as it says you've marked it private.
But it's amazing to know you wrote on q similar theme
Thanks for dropping the compliment, appreciate it.
*screams* omg i forgot i privated it lololol. gonna go unprivate it now >.>