You're art to me.
Chaos and beauty wrapped in one.
Having no true definition but my eyes can not take its gaze from you.
You have been subject to opinions and critiques of those just merely passing by.
Putting prices on you as if there was a number high that high.
Placing you on pedestals within glass boxes and confined into frames.
You were a masterpiece to me before I even knew your name.
Your artistry can be stolen or replicated.
Your light will never dim and your colors never faded.
I know others would consider you jaded or dark.
But you can speak a thousand words and so in your language, I'll embark.
I don't care that others can't interpret you.
You have no description.
You are an elite rendition.
I've made the decision
to love regardless of condition.
Pastels or watercolors.
Paint or acrylic.
Your art speaks music
And you are the lyric.
Museums can't contain you, galleries can't sell you.
You transcend time.
Your outline, your streaks.
The glances and peaks.
You'll always be art to me.