if I could write a poem

it wouldn’t be about you

these things called words deceive

they don’t show you

they tell about you

they tell you

and others

how I perceive you

if I had to

if held at gunpoint

I would paint you in sunlight

there’d be a brief gentle rain

there’d be white clouds drifting

a small stream peacefully trickling

there’d be colors of happiness

colors of life

there’d be a smile

upon your beautiful face

a warm, thoughtful expression

in your eyes

then again,

sometimes

the gun is empty