The Dying Artist

in Scholar and Scribe8 months ago

As I paint you in my dreams,

My soul breaks and I retreat

Waking up, blurry eyed, attempt to paint you one more time.

In anguish I fall, in pain I flow. In heartbreak, the strokes below

As they fill the canvas, one stroke to go, I break once more, burning to the core

Ripped up, beaten down, crumbled and broken.

The face I see,

No longer looks back at me

The last stroke I can't complete

I see only heartache, the pain in me.

As anger takes control,

My lost emotion takes a stroll

Into the darkness, I go again

Where shadows are all that remain

No longer do your eyes look past me

No longer do your lips shimmer in this dim room

Gone, covered in my dark painted strokes,

My heart will no longer bloom.

Tears fill my eyes, no one can ever see,

The days are gone, when you were meant for me

Still trying to understand, where I went wrong,

Where have we gone.

Trying to understand,

Trying to come to terms, why am I wrong

Ripped up, beaten down, crumbled and broken.

Your canvas is there, gone from my eyes

Your canvas is there, in the trashcan it lies

Ripped up, beaten down, no words to be spoken.

Gone from you, I am to be

Lost in time, my dreams are not free

Thanks for popping by. Peace to you all 😊

Cheers!

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I really liked the analogy of painting and pain. Very well detailed and structured. The most relevant thing is the feeling that lies on the face line.

Excellent work.
Thanks for sharing.
Good day.

Oh, why thank you very much! I appreciate your valuable response. Have a fantastic day 😀