An empty heart will grab hold of any medium it can;
Clinging to it so that it might know what it is to feel full.
It will paint a detailed picture of vibrant color
And make a home inside of the painting,
Well beyond the years when the colors begin to fade.
Had I a true heart at all, I could make this illusion real.
I could remain with you in these blended strokes
Of warm crimson and gold, and the paint would never dry.
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