TW: Grief and Loss, Sadness and Melancholy, Death, Emotional Pain.
(At first, I wished to capture how a soul never truly fades, to weave it into verse, eternal in poetry. But then I felt the weight of a soul trapped within a painting, more tangible and close. So, I penned this piece. I hope you enjoy it, my dearest reader.)
In tender strokes, they paint your grace,
A canvas blooms with warm embrace.
Each brush of light, each careful hue,
A world reborn, a life anew.
In twilight's glow, your laughter rings,
Soft whispers float on gentle wings.
A story told with every line,
Your spirit captured, timeless, fine.
In vibrant scenes, your smile stays,
A portrait bathed in golden rays.
Each fleeting glance, a cherished song,
In art's embrace, you still belong.
Yet shadows grow, the colors fade,
A masterpiece now overlaid.
The echoes of your voice decay,
In quiet rooms where dreams betray.
The artist's heart, once filled with light,
Now grapples with the endless night.
Memories haunt the empty space,
As tears drip down the paint's embrace.
Brushes dry, and silence falls,
In vacant halls, your memory calls.
Time moves on, relentless, stark,
A world once bright, now cold and dark.
You linger on, a ghost in frames,
In every hue, a thousand names.
Yet time moves on, and so do we,
In art, you're trapped; in life, set free.
In every stroke, a bittersweet cry,
A love immortal, yet bound to die.
For all that's left, a lonely sight,
An artist's heart, lost to the night.
YOU ARE READING
Echoes of the Unspoken
PoetryHere lies a collection of poems, scattered like leaves, shared in the hope that someone might find solace and know they are not alone in their turmoil. Beware, for these poems are not for the faint of heart; they arise from the darkest recesses of m...
