Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2019
This medium of art is a vice in my heart,
The softness of the canvas, paints a potent addiction.
Emotions flow even below the eyes,
Somehow the smallest brushstrokes pull me in and wrap themselves around me.
Can I separate the profession from my own creation?
Or will this easel I approach, trap me wear I stand?
Written by
Hunter Green  In the Moonlit Evergreen
(In the Moonlit Evergreen)   
185
   --- and ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems