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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