Whispered memories in placid darkness, inviting and deep as bottomless sea Confessed dreams in soothing pastels, rich and vibrant as mid-summer sky Chanted visions in kiss-me-quick red, haunting and lush as over-ripe cornfields
These hued words I coveted, standing solitary as one snow-blue photograph of how this world should never be When, just as possibilities seemed nil Knowing fragile and pale as honeyed milk dripped from your lips, grew me accustomed to right
More like painting here. Your brush strokes are heavy and delicate at the same time. I love the use of color in writing. One of my favorite writers from Critique Circle did ekphrastic writing and used color like this and it just made the writing so full and enchanting, nuch like it is here. I totally dug this.
These hued words
I coveted, standing
solitary as one snow-blue
photograph
of how this world
should never be
When, just as
possibilities seemed nil
Knowing fragile and pale as
honeyed milk
dripped from your lips,
grew me accustomed
to right
This was beautiful. And it may be simple of me also, but the above quoted lines made me think of the world now as this cold barren place (unlike the previous colorful dreams/memories). Its as if, you miss the world as you thought/dreamed/were told it was but now you've realize (with some help) the dreams/memories/tellings were more vivid. It's like: Welcome to the less colorful "real world" (I surmised that from the last two lines ). Its just my take but I really enjoyed the read.
This seems almost unfinished, as if the colors and images and processes of the narrator's mind come to an abrupt moment of revelation. I like the use of color here.