Heard a crying across the door, the sharp odors of my colorful medium meet my nose.
There she is, with those red eyes and trembling lips that say “Oh dear, you’re finally here.”
It’s soft, and all I want is to hold her tight.
Soft, I should only want to wipe her tears.
Soft, I should only want to hold her hand.
Soft, I should only want to caress her hair.
Soft and hard, my hands burn with the desire to touch her.
Hard, the odors of my colorful medium mix with her perfume.
Hard, her cheeks are fire.
Hard, her breathing is fast.
Harder, my hands are running around her back.
Harder, her lips meet my neck.
Harder, I want to scream her name.
And I’m shaking, everything melts.
My muse, in case I break your crystal heart, breathe.
I didn’t want you to fall in love with me.
But looking for me to paint you again you’re here.
And how fast are your tears,
You never showed me your fears.
I don’t lie that my hands burn with the desire to touch you.
But I can’t make a canvas big enough for my love to fit.

​

March 6, 2019.