Your thumb strokes my cheeks
Like your taking dimensions
Of a masterpiece
Your hand
interlaced with mine
Like brushes very fine
Kept on your table stand
Your touch ignites a fire
Even your paintings cant create
You are running your fingers
Trying to ease my pain
Smudging dark lines scratched on my face
Some intended others a mistake
But the scars won't fade
But it's alright
Cause darling you tried
An artist's job is to glorify pain
And edify perfection
Cause they know
Deformities aren't faults
But badges of integrity
Of a flawfull abstract
Of an imperfect illusion
Constructed with
Such unfailing dedication
And an enviable description
Giving a message with discretion
Only a few can read
From:
Your Inspiration
To:
My muse
YOU ARE READING
Less Than A Century
PoetryA collection of words I decided to call poetry. It takes only one To break To fix To live To die for To strive To be cruel To finally break To complete A Century
