your many beautiful smiles, like murals hung up in the gallery of my mind 

and do you remember our first date? where you took me to an art exhibition featuring your favourite photographer 

and later that night as we walked through the park, a crisp wind playing against our cheeks 

i gave you my favourite sweater — and thought to myself being cold was never better 

maybe it was then you became my favourite subject 

but we both know how distant I can be 

and art, only art, could close the gap 

of our disentangled hearts 

but it could not save us 

so while we have both become successful artists in our own fields

we are also slaves to our passion 

but passion cannot keep you warm at night 

–but it will still be there in the morning 


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