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AyeshaPoems
Don't sleep Don't sleep I begin to Like you A little bit more I shift and sigh Say your name Fatigue rolls Somewhere by But, alert I Imagine So many paintings To make for you You mumble Childishly Your laughter Is glittery I wish For so little I wish too Intensely Dont wipe me With a stiffened cloth Soaked In turpentine And a hundred hues Dont stir me I might be disturbed Out of skill Out of thought Onto a burlap scene Grotesque Picturesque And so, so true Don't move Or I might too I might too Become a facet Among the facets Of your horrors I might Become art Might become Beautiful In that strange Black way Of art Dont sleep Talk to me Speak to me Let us be Normalities Let us Hold Technicalities Forget Sentimentality In the silly blue painting Of an eyeless pretty Smooth and porcelain Perfectly closed No night To mourn into Dissolve into To stumble, To tremble into Don't sleep I become too much alone Shrivel, burnt sienna I cannot move alone I become the paintings That I fear to paint I become the sombre Debris of your laughter Cold, blue Featureless A moonlit night Nothing but red You don't know That I like you In my head Come back Come back
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Apr 30, 2023
Apr 30, 2023 at 6:10 PM UTC
Don't sleep
Don't sleep Don't sleep I begin to Like you A little bit more I shift and sigh Say your name Fatigue rolls Somewhere by But, alert I Imagine So many paintings To make for you You mumble Childishly Your laughter Is glittery I wish For so little I wish too Intensely Dont wipe me With a stiffened cloth Soaked In turpentine And a hundred hues Dont stir me I might be disturbed Out of skill Out of thought Onto a burlap scene Grotesque Picturesque And so, so true Don't move Or I might too I might too Become a facet Among the facets Of your horrors I might Become art Might become Beautiful In that strange Black way Of art Dont sleep Talk to me Speak to me Let us be Normalities Let us Hold Technicalities Forget Sentimentality In the silly blue painting Of an eyeless pretty Smooth and porcelain Perfectly closed No night To mourn into Dissolve into To stumble, To tremble into Don't sleep I become too much alone Shrivel, burnt sienna I cannot move alone I become the paintings That I fear to paint I become the sombre Debris of your laughter Cold, blue Featureless A moonlit night Nothing but red You don't know That I like you In my head Come back Come back
28/04/2023 For Crocks
#loneliness#night#painting
Ayesha
Written by
Ayesha
21/F/Pakistan
Apr 30, 2023
Apr 30, 2023 at 6:10 PM UTC
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