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Nov 2016
I
first saw
the Artist
stooped over
a canvas,
gently
invading
its properties
with paint stained
hands,

I first
saw the Artist
whispering
encouragements
as
the masterpiece
revealed itself,

I first
saw the Artist
creating revolutions
with each stroke
as
if all of
our evolution
could be
described
in one dash
of colour,

I
first
saw the Artist
in
our
yawning
existence
as
our hopes
hung from
nooses,

I first saw
the Artist
as
his hair
caught
the meager
rays of sunshine
reflecting
Cezzane
in his mastery,

I first
saw the Artist
in the
way
his eyes
turned
golden
and
the strangest
ways
he smiled at
me,

I

got to know
the artist
when
he turned
blue
from
hanging
onto
ropes for
too long,

I saw
the Artist
last
when
his
last
masterpiece
was
his
own
epitaph,


I've
never seen the
Artist again,

I wonder
where
he's
gone.
I miss people a lot these days.
mygreatestescape
Written by
mygreatestescape  19/F
(19/F)   
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