I can not write.

So I will paint you a picture.

One that you can read to me.

With pretty things dripping down the edge.

And I'll show up at your house,

with paint smeared on my face.

I'll hold it up and smile at you.

And maybe you'll smile too.

Or maybe you'll just frown,

and close the door.

If you do, I understand.

So I will walk away,

and watch the curtains,

as they fall back in place,

and be sure to leave

that picture

lying at your door.

I'll drive back home and sit at my desk,

and pull out

a sheet of paper.

I'll grab a pen, grasp it tight,

and pray to god,

please help me write.

I'll come back to you.

I promise.

And I will knock again,

hoping that you answer,

watch the curtains move,

and hand you that paper.

And maybe you'll smile.

Or maybe you'll just frown.

So as I walk

up your path

I notice that my picture

is hanging from your door.

I go ahead and knock.

And this time you let me in,

And we sit,

And we talk,

And we remember, friend.