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deadhead Apr 27
the watercolor
clouds, they drift across the sky
paint the blue canvas
jade Apr 25
There was a girl lying on the floor,
she was covered in blood,
her skin sliced by his blades.

There was a girl lying on the floor,
she was covered in bruises,
her skin tarnished by his fists.

There was a girl lying on the floor,
dead and ruined.

She was ruined by what she thought was love,
and killed, by the man she thought loved her.

but he didn’t love her, he loved his canvases.
thank you for reading
jade Apr 25
There was a canvas lying on the floor,
his canvas was lying on the floor.

There was a canvas lying on the floor,
his canvas was covered in red,
painted by his blades.

There was a canvas lying on the floor,
his canvas was covered in blue,
painted by his fists.

There was a canvas lying on the floor,
his canvas was ruined, and overused.

He needed to get a new one,
since he loved painting so much.

He always had a smile on while painting his canvases.
i like this one a bit, thank you for reading
cassandra Apr 18
your mind
like canvas
pure white
till you get hurt
and paint it
deep black
Mariah Roy Mar 18
I want to walk down the street in the midnight lamp posts
I want to drown in the words of these open books
I want to find the path that leads to Atlantis
All of my thoughts are filled with these antics

I want to climb the canvasses stacked in my room
I want to sit for weeks and watch the flowers bloom
I want to swim in the clouds and just sink like the titanic
All of my thoughts are filled with these

I want to listen to the wind filled with my favorite songs
I want to dance with my emotions and feel like everything belongs
I want to grab the universe, and hold all of the planets
But i know, I can only dream of these antics
gen Mar 16
the ones that constantly play on my mind,
now etched inside his head
he'd make you feel profound things
converting a blank page into a room full of thoughts and visualizations
waiting to be filled with intention
by the way his fingertips graze over canvas
strokes, hues, and lines
every exquisite detail
the lead scraping across the paper
shadows that protrude the overall portrait
contemplating to contrast the grays
forming vivid illustrations no one would ever envision
the paper comes to life before my eyes
it's like he never had to use his own hands
to touch each & every part of me
i only see him in monochrome
but he penetrates me with all kinds of hues

i hope he realizes that he himself, is art. my art.
4 ya
Brumous Feb 26
Harold Coffin once said that,
"Envy is the art of counting of other
people's blessing instead of your own"

No wonder I am not a masterpiece,
and only a white canvas.
Leah Hilliges Feb 18
I stripped myself bare,
and let him paint his dreams
on my papery skin,
A feeble attempt
To restore life to that canvas,
That I fail to picture
Could be beautiful,
But when marked by deep scars.

Leftovers of love.
Brett Feb 3
Poems are pictures
A lyrical mixture
Of memories turned permanent fixtures

A moment may fade
Like flowers withered on the grave
Portraits of passion stitched with pain

Ink is the clouds
The paper catches rain
Your mind the frame

Through which we see
Each and every part
Of whom we wish to be
Jay M Feb 2
Unfeeling
Undisturbed
In simply the worst of times
Potentially leaving others reeling
Or in my stead disturbed
Whilst leading on conversation
How is it all so?

Am I to be assuming
That it is encouraged
To put on a painted mask
Of emotions, when the fact of the matter
Is that there is nothing existing behind it?
Nothing more than a blank, slippery canvas
That simply cannot be painted upon

- Jay M
February 2nd, 2021
Once again it drains me.
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