#watercolour
cityscapes and heartbreaks
808s and carrot cakes
my life took a turn, a left
you tried to make me burn but I left
you at the alter, my destiny I cannot falter
I let me get softer, left the slaughter
watercolour paints and growing pains
deep introspection and soaking rains
get to the root of the issue, the root of the pain
elevate, activate
popping off like champagne
Feb 3, 2022
Feb 3, 2022 at 10:14 AM UTC
I stain myself on you
Hold onto your every imprint
Attempt permanence in your mind
Vivid thoughts you stole
Tainted brushes of colour
Mould myself to fit your image
Became a blank canvas
Though I know too well
I am watercolour
I wash off
Mar 26, 2019
Mar 26, 2019 at 5:46 AM UTC
i know you're tired
the world got me weary, too
-- Watercolour
Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 7:08 AM UTC
How fortunate
Our color blends unintentially,
Wildly with thoughts bleeding outside the lines what have we started: again
And again I stroke
And again you absorb
And again this easel-- summoned
And again your vellum-- softened
Perched on a stool,
Vibrant as mangos --ripening
I chose you, the spectrum
Unknown to most
The only museum I go to.
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 11:55 AM UTC
Some people are born
With crystals in their eyes
And hope in their skies
Of blue and green watercolour dreams.
No such shimmering exists
In here. The glimmer
Of past wonder has long since
Been destroyed by fear of existing.
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 3:23 PM UTC
Clouds seep into
The blue expanse like
Coffee cream, watercolour
Paint me an image
Leave stains on my eyes when
Holes of light poke the canvas
Black coffee, you keep me awake
Cerulean forever, black infinity
Affinity for sugar, sweet embrace
Stars leak brewed rain on a
Cafe window
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 7:53 PM UTC
The nightingale gives way
to the ruddy dawn and foam blooms
overhead among the early watercolour
skies.
I hear a blue-tit (or robin) whistling it's tune
through the bulbs which rise bouncing
from the rippling sea of soil,
growing in seamless swathes beneath
the leaves silken pink.
The sun dapples through, reflecting
a rosy hue into the glass
dew drops fast melting
into the thirsty earth, and peeps
over the treetops before
gradually bowing his glinting head.
Old daffodils turn russet
in the golden day
and wrinkle
as the clouds blush.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 2:45 PM UTC
Place silhouette pieces or outlines of my heart in thirty or more envelopes.
Paste each one with a new soft paintbrush which clean cream bristles. Push them into torn up fragments of clean new watercolour paper. The sharp edges feel through onto the wooden table leaving mistaken, accidental grooves. Glimmers of sawdust are ****** up into the pockets of your lungs, where they contaminated and will permanently sit.
It was a small heart, the colour of grey sky reflected on seas and carried in bloated raindrops. The texture of diamond. Carved up as easily as wax by a blunt butter knife.
The envelopes are neatly labelled with white tailors chalk powders.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC