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Bobcat Nov 2017
Im afraid to kiss you
Because of the fear of being left breathless
Gasping for air
The theif you are stealing life from my lungs

I'm afraid to leave you
Because without you near I'd surely fall apart
Picking up the pieces
The craftsman you are, putting me back together

I'm afraid to be loved by you
Because of the unrealistic, idealistic picture you paint of me
Every brush stroke
The artist that paints in dissappointment of who I really am

I'm afraid to trust you
Because of the words you whisper late at night
I love you more
The liar that insists in the false reality in which you could ever love me more
Contoured Nov 2017
She was a monochromatic artist,
She carried grey on her brushes,
Grey on her canvas.

Years had passed,
painting the grey,
Until she met him,
on a casual day.
He asked for her art,
red engulfed her face.
She handed it over,
Felt her heart race.

As he painted atop,
her plain, grey work,
She noticed his quiver,
his subtle quirk.
He shook with excitement,
for what he created.
The strokes of his brush,
what they effectively stated.

The canvas flooded with color,
vibrant blue and red.
What once was just grey,
was every color instead.
He shared his paint,
and together they painted.
Hours, days, weeks, months,
they were quickly acquainted.

It soon became time,
to get on his way.
He packed up his paints,
left the next day.
Soon after he left,
her work began to fade.
What was once turquoise and magenta,
again became stone grey.

She carried grey on her brushes,
Grey on her canvas.
She was a monochromatic artist.
Blake Nov 2017
I don't want to say I'm in love with you
But
What am I to do when you're
Everything
I see
You're the ink stains on white desk tops
You're the paint splatters in art galleries
You're the words I am typing
I don't want to say I'm in love with you
But what
If
I
Am?
MikeTheVike Nov 2017
~

grandpa

b e a u t i f u l l y

paints pictures of grandma

while she reads the new testament

he who has ears to hear, let him hear it

but grandpa can't hear anything

when it comes to his ears

but she still reads

out loud


~
My attempt at a Rictameter.
Inspired by Santita's latest Rictameter.
The format is 2,4,6,8,10,8,6,4,2


© Mike Mortensen
Ni Nov 2017
That day you picked up that paint brush,
and splattered all of the blacks,
the grays,
the blues all over me.
You painted until there was none of me left,
I was completely covered,
but see you thought you were simply protecting me from you
when in reality you were ruining
me.
and I wasn't going to stop you.
Dirty Word Nov 2017
There once was a painter
He painted so much
The painter didn't talk so much
He painted over words

There once was a painter
He talked so much
The painter didn't paint so much
He had finally died
After an illustrious career.
Ni Nov 2017
You helped me see the world with color,
when everything around me seemed to be gray.
My laughter I heard that didn't mean anything for a long time
finally had a purpose.
And I promised myself
that I wouldn't let you control the colors that were
painted on my canvas.
But the thing is,
I handed you the paintbrush,
waiting to see what beautiful thing you would draw for me,
and beautiful it was.
Aleeza Nov 2017
there are clock ticks somewhere in the back of my mind
moonlight is catching in your shoulders and knuckles
we both have no idea of the time
and we both don’t mind

I hum a melody I thought I’ve long forgotten
as you tap out a rhythm I know too well
it feels like an eternity since our gazes met
a lifetime since we said any words

you ask me what we are doing
and all I can think is tormenting ourselves
pulling away from touch
depriving ourselves of the sweetness of dreams

a hundred delirious thoughts run through my mind
would your mouth taste of sunsets and cotton candy skies?
will your fingers feel electric against my spine?
would your heart beat with mine?

your tapping is calmer now
pressing little points into my skin
I tell you to meet my gaze
and when you look up
I can see the same questions in your eyes

because I know that you’re afraid of such ideas
I edge a bit closer to your cross-legged form
and without the hesitation that plagued me for years
I kiss you with all the moonlight and shadows

you don’t pull away the way I expected you to
but I don’t pull you into me more
because I am afraid that I will ruin the petal-like softness of your mouth
I am afraid that you will break under me
and spill all of your wonder onto my sky-blue sheets

I keep my hands clenched in my lap
but you like adventures all too much
and yours are tracing roadmaps across my skin
sending pinpoints of life across every portion that you touch

you break the melding of our mouths
and you hum a dark tune against my collarbone
my hands find a way inside the softness of your shirt
you’re alive in all of the places I explore

shaky fingers find where my pulse is strongest
I feel like a gunshot has gone off somewhere and the bullet is through me
too close, i think, all too close
and it's the hardest thing to keep breathing

my shirt is now entangled with the sheets
and my back goes rigid at the thought
of your touch going over the scars i had hidden for more than a decade
of the secrets i don't talk about with anyone

so i slip your shirt over your head to take my thoughts away
I run my hands over every inch of space as if i am writing our history
but yours are holding onto my waistband
and I feel like crying out of fear of your judgment

but you don't judge a thing
you only trace the lines on the inside of my thighs and the backs of my knees
you tell me that someday you will paint every single line
for i will remember you in my words and you will remember me in those

and i laugh, on the verge of tears
because here you are
someone with the sun in his smile and decades of mysteries in his words
and you make me feel like i am the world
all of its light and its lost beauty and its shadows
I am porcelain in the silvery light
and you hold me so I wouldn't shatter
my eyes wander over the planes of your features
and yet again I wonder

if anyone will see you the way that i do
lost in the winding path of his own making
a delicate soul who refuses to sleep because of curiosity about the universe
an enigma who cannot be unraveled

will they know what it takes for the corners of your mouth to tip into a smile
will they know of the ideas that plague your mind
will they know you beyond what everyone else saw

our mouths meet again amidst how tangled we are with each other
and I think I might believe in magic
as I etch the curves of your name into the back of my mind
we sing the darkness of our dreams

I may be unsure of thousands of thoughts every single day
but I will now wake up knowing
that I can be sure of you.
Haruharu Nov 2017
One small sign was all it took.

I'm back where I started.

With false hopes that he still cares.

Maybe he hasn't let me go either?

Painting pictures in my head that I know he'll burn without hesitation.

Once again I'll be watching my dreams with him turn into ashes.
Neha Srivastava Nov 2017
I had not realized until now
The love that I was longing for and wasn't allowed
It had always existed within me since eternity
How My mind has loved my heart so gorgeously
It sketches , it paints , it sculpts a world so new
of everything that lies in its preview
My mind envisages so beautifully
and let my heart absorb it presuambly
This gift is the only reality
as it gives hope to let my heart beat willingly
The day you'll be tired of your paint and brush
My Heartbeats will make no rush
Before you calm down together
Your love for my heart is rarest of rare...
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