...Upon The Canvas Of Me

 

 

Spattered,

 

dotted hues

 

in abstracts of many memories,

 

are water-colored forever,

 

...upon the canvas of me.

 

 

 

Brush-stroked dreams

 

of this still lifed composition,

 

contrast the forms

 

of what is reality,

 

...upon the canvas of me.

 

 

 

In perspective,

 

my spectrum is boldened,

 

by the symmetry

 

of these roughened textures,

 

...upon the canvas of me.

 

 

 

I wait for the lighting

 

to be perfect,

 

for my muse to work her medium,

 

deftly creating a balance,

 

...upon the canvas of me.

 

 

 

But the highlights

 

are much too dimmed,

 

the colors, too muted,

 

by the black and white starkness,

 

...upon the canvas of me.

 

 

 

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Jesster's picture

nice...

nice...


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