My Blooming Words

I do not speak.
No, it is hard for me to.
Sentences are jumbled in my brain
for beautiful things, for beautiful you.
Even if my body suffers the winter,
my mind melts the snow and gets through.
It sees the sky of colours,
while the ocean reflects its blue.

Just like the colour blue,
my words are reflected
on the surface of the pages
that my paint brushes have felt.
My words are reflected
on the surface of the pages
by the pens I have held.
My words have changed from being just in my mind
to coming out in spaces;
To becoming my genie,
my magical beans to golden eggs.

No,
I will not speak
but paint.
I will not speak
but write,
my blooming words.

_______________________________________

Hey people!
I write in a very boring way. If you all can help me on becoming better, I will really appreciate it.
\(°∆° )/