Only Painted true

When all that was, was created by a wish, that never manifested beyond your thoughts.

Pretty painted memories

Glistening over the endless horizon

Painting kisses on eyelashes

And wishes that lasted

Rest on tongues of molasses

Dripping into the ears of our soul

Tasting like cinnamon whispers

Floating by my memories eyes

Playing tricks on my mind

But I pulled up a chair to sit

At the profound encounter

Of tangerine touches

Against a background of turquoise

Gems against my cheeks

Where rose petals once played for me

Life complexities indicted me

So I escaped to the land of paint and brushes

Holding a rainbow gun

I shot at caramel springs

And the stars changed colors

And fell like rain

I tasted each one

Sipping on the steam of a jasmine sun

And scents of happy thoughts flooded me

And I chose painted memories

Over dismal realities

So I could lie in the arms of a chiseled god

Made by my own hands

I carved until your soul did rest

Outside of the flesh

I never knew you

Only what I painted true

Reviews

[Emily B]

A sensory experience, beyond painting and sculpture.

[R J Askew]

I enjoy your sustained writes. 'Tongues of molasses' is utterly delightful, as is 'cinnamon whispers'. I also like and can see, 'I pulled up a chair' ... well you would, wouldn't you! The verbs keep this going...after pulled up ... you keep it going with 'escape'. And the sense of looking over the shoulder of someone deeply involved in some personal quest to create their perfect love object is fascinating.