An empty canvas
Waiting
For the best of his strokes
His reveries
For her face..
A face full of emotions
The ones he never dared to express
Her sumptuous lips
He once kissed
Her eyes
That once drowned in tears
And those ears..
That consumed it all
Yet..she did not fit..
In his "personal definition" of love.
And today he tried to paint her
In every possible way
Colours dancing about
In that smoked filled space
As he aged with his wine..
His blood
Inebriated  with her memories..
He wept
Like a child
Choking with regrets
In the darkness
Of that closed envelope
In the enslaving emptiness
Of that abandoned canvas..
If only
He could smell her
Somewhere,amongst the cigarette puffs..
If only..
She stayed
And caressed him to sleep
To awaken the corpse of his life