The Prisma Marker

I can't help but to cry.

You say you wore your brush tips out making squiggly lines.
Gray tones and all the colors,
but we are still waiting for the full rainbow glow to be available for us.
---
It wasn't so simple.
I cried in the art store.
I didn't even want him shopping with me,
I knew he would judge.

And I saw the pink prisma marker, I said, "I would really love that!"
But he never bought me gifts.

I said, "I would like this notebook too."
He said, "You don't need it"
then he got angry, like he so often did.

I eventually got that notebook and Pink Prisma Marker, but you didn't want to buy them for me.

You just didn't want me to cry.
It was the first 'gift' you bought me, and it was given from the lowest place.

Whenever I use that Pink Prisma Marker, I can't help but do a quick shake. It reminds me of you, and how you didn't like art. It reminds me of your lack of generosity, and the way you never understood my passion.
---
So when I talk with you about colors and playing in the prisma box, you light up.
You say, "I'll bring mine to share," and we delight in the stories of drawings, colors, shapes and lines.

And I cry,
Since this is new, and we have so much in common.