Stale air
Stills the night blossoms
Leaving us in a wandering midnight blue
Trust
Lost
Squelched
Like stars burned by an over zealous moon
I sought to seek the truth
Only to have it ripped out
Like the page that was inside of me
That drifted out
Into the wind
If I tried to reach
To get it
From my window pane
Bits and pieces
of the very soul of me
Could fall and break
But if I let it go
I may never hear your voice again

Artists capture moments for eternity
In dried paint mimicking life
But the stiff edges of them
Are unable to show the emotions
That flow off of everyone
Softening their edges
Bleeding more than my open vein

Their colors are unable to resemble
The stark red of my blood
On the recently bleached porcelain
Or pinpoint each star
Of the galaxies within his eyes

Nor are they able to blend their paints
To show how the simple white pills
Absorb the colors of my palm
Or how they make each of his movements
So drastic and sharp

The way her body turns and twists
When the music pulses within her
Is something artists have yet to paint

They may grasp how her hair twirls around her
Getting stuck on her lipgloss
But it will never look right
Without the motion behind it

The lack of music is deafening in their portraits
They tried to capture the beauty of a songbird
In a soundproof glass box