I miss old art.

I miss old art,
the way it showed how people really looked,
every crooked nose and tired eye.
Where I could stand before a portrait
and ache for a time I never lived.
I miss the stories one painting could hold,
a whole life in one held breath.
I miss the what-ifs,
the questions the canvas never answered.
But now as I walk through the gallery,
past every face,
past every story,
I never slow down.

Hey! Thanks for reading, I hope this was good! I'm trying to get back into writing so I hope this was a good start! I am open to critique, if you have anything you'd change or something that doesn't make sense, leave a comment!