I find the allure of burgundy hues,
not one for the corpse of grapes,
being
squeezed of every essence of life...
But the allure haemorrhaging forth..
I could be buried within this collage of
elegance.
And when I dig myself from it,
I would paint,
seeing a picture of vigour.
Not the outline that others see ,
when
its chalk lined on the canvass.
Its not deceased,
this moment has only just breathed.
Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 3:44 PM UTC
I find the allure of burgundy hues,
not one for the corpse of grapes,
being
squeezed of every essence of life...
But the allure haemorrhaging forth..
I could be buried within this collage of
elegance.
And when I dig myself from it,
I would paint,
seeing a picture of vigour.
Not the outline that others see ,
when
its chalk lined on the canvass.
Its not deceased,
this moment has only just breathed.
