Canvas

And they took their pens filling me in,

Teaching me what to see,

What to say,

and what to think. 

To them i was nothing more than a blank canvas.

To them i was someone to mold and make into the person they wanted.

Of course, you never saw it.

no one ever sees it.

No one ever sees the faint traces in the beginning of a drawing. 

They are placed so perfectly that you would never notice until the heavy sharpie is pushed into those faint lines.

Thick lines solidifying their image.

Yet for some reason they never get what they want.

They can never love you like they imagined,

And you can never love them the way they want. 

And that's the thing about love. 

You cant draw in what you want, 

You have to love the person how they need to be loved,

not the way you want to love. 

It's not about you. 

Love is selfless not selfish.