Inspired by the film ‘New York, I love you’


I am a painter
I paint faces
I search for models
Draw their face
And pay to them
Everything ends while
The paint is still damp
We never meet again
I sell their faces
Make good money
And move on
It’s a fair deal
I do my job
I met a face yesterday
I wanted to paint
I approached her
She shrugged and
Moved ahead
I pleaded again
She came to me
And settled on a wooden
Couch
The canvass separated us
While I painted her
Soon I realized I had painted
A different face altogether
I looked at her
And I looked at the painting
Her eyes were soaked
A tear had just stopped in
The middle of face
Her lips were half locked
Sealed with thousand unsaid
Words and phrases
There was blood on her skin
The one I had made using blue
I looked at my palette
It had turned all black
I could hear my heart
And my hands were all wet
This was something strange
I was in love
I wanted to continue her paint
I wished the strokes never end
But I stopped in the middle
Paid her money and
Bid her goodbye
I realized
Everything is not possible
To paint
Sometimes we need too many
Colors
And sometimes we need none
Sometimes we actually move miles
And sometimes we move without
Moving
I had dared to travel the distance
I can never afford
I paint faces
It’s my job
And I cannot love the face I paint
Coz’ I am a painter
Just a painter…