I was hurt, broken, surrounded by the darkness

I was so close to ending it all, I must confess.

I was such a mess.

Then an angel named Potential came to be my light.

Try as I might

I couldn’t fight,

So engulfed by that blinding, loving, light.

She took me under her wing

As if it didn’t mean a thing.

I look at her shocked into silence, as I stare at this angelic beauty

Pale skin flitted with the butterfly’s kiss,

Peach-colored lips with a sweet voice that I miss,

Ice blue eyes that warm even the coldest heart,

And bronze colored hair was what consisted of this masterpiece, this work of art.

The Mona Lisa, The Starry Night, The Kiss, nothing can compare to her.

I soon fell not only for the canvas but for the art beneath it,

I not only fell for her body but also her soul.

So pure.

So innocent.

She had done everything for me yet I wanted more,

I was convinced that I had never felt this before.

But every time I made my advances,

She rebuffed me; I kept telling her to take chances.

But Potential wouldn’t listen to me.

She told me we weren’t meant to be.

I realized I couldn’t be her da Vinci or her Picasso.

I wasn’t her artist,

Only a man could fill that role.

I couldn’t handle it; my emotions had begun to take their toll,

So I left bag in tow.

I will always love her, but art is meant to be looked at, admired, but never touched.

So …

My angel, my savior, my Potential,

Thank you.