I’m glad I didn’t choose you as my subject

For my art project

I chose someone I hadn’t spoken to in a while

So I could fuck up.

Had I chose to draw you,

I would never finish.

I would spend hours, days, weeks,

Until I realized I can’t capture your perfection

With a piece of charcoal.

That I can’t shade in your mannerisms,

Or sketch in the way you move your hair out of your eyes

And my heart from my body simultaneously.

Because when I look at you, I understand

Why Da Vinci spent years

On Mona Lisa’s lips alone