Maybe I Painted a Picture

Maybe I painted a picture, of who I thought you were; but I don't know how I could be so far off? I mean, It's you but not YOU. Maybe you changed? Or maybe my perception of you did? I could've sworn those brush-strokes on the woven yarns made you, but it's different. Those dark eyes of your's that used to be so mesmerizing and comforting are now like black-holes waiting to swallow all the joyful memories, memories that seem light years away. Maybe I painted a picture of you, but pictures can only reveal so much of your appearance, disregarding who you are as a person. The person who once smiled at the little things, now pretending they never existed at all. So maybe I did paint a picture, but a picture of who?