A glimpse of blond and shadow,
tall and hunched.
I would paint him as a morning sun,
a blood orange with pinks and golds,
my strokes would be soft
like the blush on his
cheekbones and
the indentations beside his mouth.
I would paint his face a grey,
like clouds that are confused, swirling
and whirling but
amused by the slightest thing.
As I near his chest, I
would paint his heart a purple, so dark and deep,
juxtaposing his bashful smile and *****
blond hair.
The 5 o'clock shadow
spreading its graceful limbs along
his angular jaw,
I would paint a mauve brown,
reflecting the days
of nerves and sadness
as his red-stained lips drop, the smile
gone.
Like the knock of an elbow,
harsh and sharp, eyes
seeing stars, the pain is all consuming
at first, all he can think about and then
the ground stills, the sky is pink,
the grass
a burnt yellow.
I would paint his face blue.