I sketch a face
strong of bone
'tis my love
'tis my own

planes of cheek
line of jaw
insistent flesh
sinews raw

something female
in your long curls
but it's plain
that you like girls

I consider
as I mix the paint
I wish to render,
captivate

your sweet fleshtones
rich and warm
The tan quality
of arm

mixing pink
burnt umber, gold
I use brushstrokes
deft and bold

a touch of green
'round your eye's fire
black pupils swollen
with desire

chestnut hair
and eyes of blue
I have finally
captured you

won't put this painting
on my wall
'nor place it in
an attic small

I'll place it in
my heart's museum
a room where
I will always see him

he'll be near
I'll bring him hence
always in remembrance

in him life
I will embue
he is the imagery of

YOU


SoulSurvivor
(C) 4/10/2016

When put to words
They do not feel the same.
When said out loud,
Come across as burned out flames-
They seem as somewhat distorted,
Not what You see inside,
Rather concealed and tamed,
The intensity not quite portrayed,
On the equivalent high tide.