The coffee grows cold on my desk
(maybe if I leave it there
long enough, it will
evaporate).
Brush strokes fill
my mind,
thoughts fill
the canvas
the Vision translates
itself.
You bite your lips
to tease me…
Can red do justice
to the cruelty of
your words?
You stare emotionlessly
into space…
Can blue capture
the coldness in
your eyes?
You twist your curls
michieviously…
Will black signify
The darkness of
your soul?
It is my magnum opus.
- Vijayalakshmi.R.
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 5:40 AM UTC
The coffee grows cold on my desk
(maybe if I leave it there
long enough, it will
evaporate).
Brush strokes fill
my mind,
thoughts fill
the canvas
the Vision translates
itself.
You bite your lips
to tease me…
Can red do justice
to the cruelty of
your words?
You stare emotionlessly
into space…
Can blue capture
the coldness in
your eyes?
You twist your curls
michieviously…
Will black signify
The darkness of
your soul?
It is my magnum opus.
- Vijayalakshmi.R.
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Inspired by the novel The Picture of Dorian Gray
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