Unfinished Painting

To You...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here I sit.

There I stand.

And for a long time I shall remain

in this image you've long ago depicted in your hazel brown.

 

Here she comes

There she goes.

But she won't wander far.

Do you see that tree across the street? Outside the prison she had put herself in?

That's how far her cowardly breath would wander.

 

What is this...? No. Stop. I will go far. I can.

I see the train.  I see the canoe down the stream.

They shall take me to a greener land, or a cleaner shore. With a lovelier sunset.

 

But I stayed. Not because you made me. Not because you could afford a lock and a creaking door.

 

I stayed to try to make you feel...feel anything.

I stayed so you can look at me, into my eyes. Not just pass by me.

 

I stayed and now you've snatched a paintbrush blended those amazing bright colors together. You chose the yellowish brown for my hair, the pink blush for my cheeks, the green glint in my eyes, the reddish lips, the soft pastel fingers, the blue and white frock, and the neat black shoes. But these were simply the bases. The beginning layers that inspired you. Then you made a grey depressing stroke across my face, right where my tears were frittered. You've dropped the brush from your coarse hand and left me alone on that easle. Alone and untended to and unfinished.

 

What are you doing? Am I not good enough? Do you not see me as your beautiful creation? Where are you going? Come back and guide me...please. I don't know what my name is. Choose one for me. I don't know how to talk, walk. Teach me.

 

Come closer to me, don't worry, I won't bite. I won't burn you with my forsaken glare. I'm not that cruel.

 

I shall only slice you once in one piece of your skin...then I shall slice you again in the same wound right before it dries and heals.

 

I will do it over and over and I will try to entertain myself everytime you complain to me: It stings,

 

I will hurt you,

 

so that my voice can reach you beyond the easel in that dusty chamber,

 

I will hurt you.

 

Because I love you.

Author's Note

Comment, reviews, corrections are welcome. I haven't revised this piece yet.

*Image title: The Birth of Color
*By *firestarter1988
*Link: http://firestarter1988.deviantart.com/art/the-Birth-of-Color-168542753

Reviews

[Kelsie Eileen Stark]

Very much like a small story inside of this...I love it.