Don't become an artist

For you will look at love as abstract art.
You will look at the sky as a canvas to paint your heart
Feel raindrops ink your skin with poetry.

You will draw curves out of straight lines
You will make sense out of slant rhyme
Call empty space, a place to contemplate
And fill walls with kaleidoscope memories

You will inject beats in your veins
And get high on good music
You will dance to the pitter-patter of rain
and sing of melancholy and pain

You will taste ink in your first kiss
After which, you’ll ask the weirdest questions.
You will make a carbon copy of the intellectual conversations
You had on your first date.

You will see depth in his eyes
Depth, you’re ready to fall into.
You will love his every word-Truth or lies
For you will be a victim to metaphors and similies.


You will live in your tiny world of stories
And when someone out there, outside your own bubble
Of profound thoughts and fantasies
Share the same story, you let them write yours too.

You let them read your lips
Like a Sherlock Holmes book
And let them write sheet music ,
of your heart beat.

You will find paradoxical bliss in their company
And you wish to escape into euphoria
With them and flow like free verse.
Then fall in place like a well structured plot.

The two of you will make an art work
Of your souls, splashed on a canvas
Or scribbled on paper
or frozen in harmony.

Whatever may come to be,
You will live forever.
For it is hard to erase
beautiful pieces of art.

But then again, you will stain your heart
With that 2 AM coffee and
Your throat will be parched…
by fake promises in dry ink.

Because, like all stories,
Like all pieces of art,
There will be an end.
Don’t become an artist.