Before, I hated drawing.
I despised artists; I thought art was a waste of time.
I mean, a “painting” wish some red streaks and splashes becomes famous?
For what, like those red streaks were somewhat very purposeful?
Phshhhhh. Puh’lease. Like it matters.
But now, I can’t stop my pencil from moving about.
From restaurant paper napkins to exam sheets,
everything was covered in hearts.
all kinds of hearts, filled, empty.
It was all because of this one artist that I grew up with,
who taught me, unintentionally, that all people,
all hearts, collectively, individually
are pieces of art
when brought together, makes up the universe.