I am desperated
Trying to paint you
I have no reference
Or something to base on,
I have no pictures
Not in my phone
Not from your shy face
That i haven't done,
I haven't started
And i never will
I really want to
But I'm artistically ill,
I can't recall
Details from your face
I can not remember
That special gaze
You,
Pink moon of november
Full blush
So mild and tender
I tried, but i can't
The paint and the canvas
Will not stick together,
I cried, and i left
I knew that your painting
Would be unfinished forever
YOU ARE READING
"pseudo-poemas"
PoetryNo soy poeta, ni mucho menos soy un artista, pero me gusta escribir en prosa y de vez en cuando involucrar algunos sentimientos y pensamientos en lo que escribo
