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Jan 8
You plant unreachable images in my head
Willing me to paint
My hands though they work they wither
Much like heavens notions taint
Though I strive I’ll never reach you
For your face is much too great
Vast with perfection
And I think I’ve grasped a taste
Yet I’m farther than where I’ve been
For you have turned your face
My hands dance with fervor
Across this painted page
Flicking ideals far and wide
Desperate  to meet you
Hungry  to be lifted high
Alas my brush has found you
Then you shift your gaze
Revealing a new angle
And once  again my fingers race
Written by
Ash  Texas
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