Where is your final town, your resting place?
And is Gene Davis there as well, and
Does he take his coffee strong?

As the days roll by
Do you try to fill the silence
Reminiscing of moments when pastels bled together?

Or is it mostly regret
That boysenberry and maroon never played
As well as they should have?

That you couldn’t fall in love
With the way the iris of a forget me not
Brushes up against the strength of an evergreen--

Overlooked her soul, Gene
Never caught the undertones in the light--
Only found beauty at the end.

The last time she shook
There was movement in the white,
And smoothness in the bronze of the church bells.

I bleed in pastels
To mimic the beauty of sunsets

there is comfort
in living in black
the devoid of color
makes life seem more meaningful
as if pain has got it's bludgening purpose

but then you came along
sprouted from the ground
petals in pastels and colors all around
and my god

i'll keep my eyes open forever
if it means the black has gone to color
and you promise me that you'll never find
any other

Her long fingers grasped
the midnight blue pigmented stick of oil,
pulling it across the sand coloured card
as if nothing else existed.
The way she focused on the piece of art
she was creating-a piece of art
much like herself,
was exhilarating.
On the card was variations of
shapes, colours and shades-
much like herself.
She wore a prominent frown when she drew,
shaking her head and muttering things to herself when she went outside the lines,
making her hair fall into the middle of her shoulder blades.
Just like her masterpiece, she was
made up of
shapes, colours and shades.
Eyes a large oval shape
her nose a  triangular sculpture against her soft features.
The skin on her nose and against her cheeks were a darker shade of olive,
compared to the rest of her imperfect countenance.
Hair like black coffee cascading down her back,
merely reaching her frail waist.
A sense of nostalgia surrounded her small frame.
The masterpieces she creates show sentimental meanings,
hidden with oval shapes and midnight blue pigmented sticks of oil,
much like herself.