Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
he carefully traced his brush along the canvas, its stem daring to fall from his fingertips. his strokes were gentle, and when he mixes his colors he made sure it was the right one. his splatters were all around the corners but he’d go back to fix them. he gently brushed his finger across her cheek, his fingers weak, threatening to fall. his touch was serene, resisting the temptation to scar her again. the times he would make a mistake were uncountable, but he’d always come back with an apology. neither were perfect, and at the end of the day his artwork was the one he loved more.
0
Jun 13, 2017
Jun 13, 2017 at 7:59 AM UTC
canvas pt. ii
he carefully traced his brush along the canvas, its stem daring to fall from his fingertips. his strokes were gentle, and when he mixes his colors he made sure it was the right one. his splatters were all around the corners but he’d go back to fix them. he gently brushed his finger across her cheek, his fingers weak, threatening to fall. his touch was serene, resisting the temptation to scar her again. the times he would make a mistake were uncountable, but he’d always come back with an apology. neither were perfect, and at the end of the day his artwork was the one he loved more.
saetre
Written by
Jun 13, 2017
Jun 13, 2017 at 7:59 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem