Thursday, June 30, 2011

Preservation

Oh to be a myriad of brush strokes,
A spectrum of color!
Oh to be the sparkle in her eye,
the blush upon her lips,
the corner of her smile.
I would be forever in love,
never hurt, always hugged by a golden frame,
surrounded by a cloudless sky,
with fresh grass blades tickling my feet.

But ah, never to be painted,
trapped with only a sight of my lover,
never any closer to him than the day he painted me,
never hugged by his arms,
never spoken to by his lips,
never kissed.

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