My canvas suffers the mental irony of your love
As the colors brush upon my soul
Stroking the torments of not having you
The colors scream out the pain of misfortune
As they spread upon my palette of sorrow
Melancholy hues of blues like my tears of woes
Touch the surface of my internal sadness
Reds like the blood that pumps within
Bleeds the anguish of my broken heart
White like the pale destitute upon my face
Longing to embrace you in my arms again
Remembering the taste of pleasantry I once experienced
Of those Poppy pink lips, of love touching mine
The purples and greens blending with ever stoke
Pigments that leave a blemish in my heart for ever
Colors that liquify my canvas of heartbreaks
My canvas suffers the mental irony of your love
A contest entry
- Speak Of The Arrow by misticmoonlite.
900 points, ended November 10, 10 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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*whisper* Wow.
This echoes what I feel regarding my beloved & I. The pain is unbearable. Good one, Mom.
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Love can be very trying, but takes 2 to make it work...thank you for this entry good luck
Linda
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