flower children in turpentine distress

flower children in turpentine distress

 

 

you brushed me off 

like a throwaway water color

a half painted portrait of despair

 

i think there was love in your mixture

but a heart in heat eventually loses temperature

and the rose runs from the bristles

before it finds a canvas home

 

i was your studio

until the room got cold

 

now our love looks like a wounded Pollack

bleeding what's left of us

onto a floor

                   with no protective splash

 

 

 

 

erin-cilberto

1/5/18

Reviews

[andrew mitchell]

lovely metaphor j, lovely rhythm, the picture is certainly painted!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your words, andrew.
j.

[_mal]

Some of these lines truly inspiring. The first and second stanza could stand alone

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you _mal....
j.

[R.E. Ray]

J., Another big hit. I truly enjoy your writing. So much depth and emotion in relatively few words. Great metaphor here. I especially like the end... "bleeding"... "no protective splash." That's about as raw as it gets. Grateful to read this one. Thanks.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

you are very kind in your review, Robert...thank you.
j.