The woman I want to be, I will never be. For in being the woman I want to be, I’ll never be the woman you want me to be.

The sun to the east and the moon to the west,
The earth was in itself a golden chest,
Nothing could compete with each dawning crest,
But man, he came and destroyed what was best.

Thin wispy lines stretching across a pallid canvas;
Arching strokes of beauty and vibrancy begin to appear,
Each a delicate line placed by a perfect hand
In the creation of the masterpiece “Love.”