That Feeling.

I once had a thought that my hands were brushes.

With them, I could pain my life in colors

so vivid and breathtaking, everyone would smile.

But I had shades of blue and ugly grey's,

deep dark days where only I knew what it meant.

I started tearing apart my walls, my only canvas,

searching for the colors to take someone's,

oh anyone's breath away, even if it was once.

I wandered  through cerise and low tone pinks,

ghostly whites and empty yellows, broken greens.

My hands caked in that awful blue.

Saddened to see my master piece around me.

How the holes I tore into those walls,

would anyone patch and cover in lights?

I stumbled my blues over your majestic white,

finding a baby blue skylight where birds sing.

You mixed in my deep dark days and gave me a sun.

You said I could be anything, my old stable self again.

You pasted ribbons in my hair, and painted a heart on my cheek.

You kissed my nose, and began to paint this world with me.

God's light glistens in your hues and existence,

a hallow yet somber natural tone of sweet rose.

With you, I can paint a world brand new!

But I only want to create one involving you.

Author's Note

06.27.2014