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By darwin Date: 2006 Jan 11 Comment on this Work [[2006.01.11.10.30.18416]] |
| Today, if I could, I would paint you. I would take the colors of you and put them on my brush. I want to picture you in strokes and colors, in oils and watercolor. I want to blend you and mix you and put you onto paper. I would take a pencil and draw you if only I knew how. If I could put you onto canvas, and show the world your colors as I see them, and your beauty that takes my breath. But my hands are clumsy and so often is my mind, and I can't transfer you for the world to see. But I can write about you. I can tell everyone who reads this, of the way you look in the morning. When your eyes are closed, and your back naked and warm from a long night of darkened sleep. I can tell them how your hands are strong, with calluses and that you chew your fingernails instead of cutting them. Or how you never slept naked before you slept with me. Or how every morning I kiss you and wish for those few more minutes looking at you in bed, rather than emerging out into this sunless gray world of winter. But today in my mind, you are a Vermeer, you are a Klimt, you are colors swirling and painted on my mind. Today, as always, you are a masterpiece |