Self-Portrait

I was late to class, running up the creaky stairs

Everyone was waiting, with their ugly, judgmental stares

Sunlight shone through the spotty, 8-paned window

And particles danced like fireflies in this old, dusty studio

I quickly found my empty canvas and stood to look at you

My guide, my muse, my inspiration. You instructed us on what to do

A simple task, you told the group; a portrait of your truest self

The fire that burns within your soul, truer than the mirror itself

The eager learners set off at once, purples and yellows and pinks and blue

Swishing, dipping and dabbing away, I stood there motionless, like I didn’t have a clue

I held the paintbrush in my hand, dripping with my shade of hazel

But the canvas felt too formal, and my truest self was not so simple

I looked up and found my eyes in yours, and in that moment, realized

That it was you. That in your presence, my truest self was undisguised

It was you that was my canvas, that saw me and all of my shades and colours

And I saw yours too, reflected, the infinite rainbows and endless summers

You are the yellow burst of sunshine that brightens my day

The red hot lust that fills my veins in every way

The blazing wildfire that sparks my thoughts and awakens me

And the royal purple that reminds me that yes, I am worthy

You are the playful bubblegum kisses that colour my cheeks in pink

And the depth of the bluest oceans, that challenges me and makes me think

I looked around at the others, painting within the lines of the predetermined canvas

And I dipped my fingers into the cool paint and decided I shall not be so anonymous

And so I went to you and ran my fingers down your face

Purple, yellow, blue and more, so that every colour had its place

You took my rainbow hands in yours and smiled to my soul

Then grabbed my face and kissed it, and for a moment I was whole

My portrait is yours, it’s mine, it’s nothing like the others

I am sorry I was late, but these are my truest colours