Example Poem: My Palette My palette is only half as empty as it could have been, if you hadn't tempted me to fill it in. Yet despite the itching and scratching of a paint brush dispatching paint to a surface of a canvas; once white as a ghost, now red as a kiss. I still find this canvas as empty as the crevice that you left in my heart. I guess that must be why they call it art. A black backdrop drops back behind the red over black, counteracting my intention to meld the two. The red is as distant, and insignificant, from the black as I am to you. Now smeared its all so clear. Mixing a red heart with a black makes red disappear.