I was there when Vincent Van Gogh painted The Starry Night

Poetry form: free verse

I love art yet I am not a painter and never will be. I am a poet. A poet that can't tell the truth in words. A poet who's words don't make sense. A poet who can't tell people that I love them. That is just how poets are. Hurt, pain filled people who are traumatized in some way or another.

I am a miserable poet, just like every other one. We don't tell people that we love them. We don't tell other people that we are hurt by something their mother said. We express our true emotions that no else have been seen before.

So when I saw that painting for the first time, I sat that in awe. I was inspired, inspired to write this poem. I hate that I can't paint. That would be a good outlet for me. To just take out all my emotions with colours. A happy ending, bad ending, either I don't mind.

Being in love with a painting is a indescrible art. An art so beautiful that can't compare to poetry. As Vincent Van Gogh painted in front of me, with streaks and careful colours picked out, that's when it provoked me wanting to paint - yet my paintings won't be as great as his. Not ever in time and space.

But — still I want to paint.

image doesn't belong to me