My Van Gogh

I don't wanna share him, even if he wasn't mine. I'm selfish like that. I wanna keep him in my hands, gently touch him like he's a fragile, rare vase. I don't wanna let the world know about him like he's a long lost, never seen before Van Gogh painting. I don't wanna show the world the different shades of brown his eyes display in different lightings. I don't wanna let the world touch his pale skin, ever so cold but as soft as silk. One million marvelousness about him I'd like to keep to myself, keep it in a tiny chest and swallow it whole. But he couldn't be kept, he couldn't be hidden. He's full of wonders and he's ready for greatness and I am not the definition of adventure nor wanderlust. He deserves to be pinned up a wall like an actual Van Gogh painting because to me, I'll always look at him like a painting I've never seen before