There are no particular speeches in a paintbrush
Such artistry contempts my mind
The fairest heart
Is the fairest heart of dreams,
I rise to the occasion in the fairest skies
For the fairest skies of love bring me to you,
Michelangelo;
Oh so true is the idiot that reads
For reading leads many astray,
For it is the sculpture of a painting
That hangs in the balance
True love is a form of art, and so on
Oh what dearest dreams
You hang in a painting?
So ravenous are your scars
For you see a vision I can feel
I admire you for your damseling in distress
For such colors reach like piles on end
The Eiffel Tower cannot compare to your love
And you are a painting of many cities uncontrived
The experience is special
Especially in your eyes
And the poetry restores a brand-new feeling,
A brand-new feeling in me
For I am the vision, and you are the creator
The creator of a masterpiece
Oh dear Michelangelo
Tell me your dirty little secret
And so much more;
Do you hang by the fire that is romance?
Do you sculpt the naked body just to sigh?
And all of my crying riddles rely on you
From Barbados to the moon
And truly I am in awe of you
Your deepest mournings have an effect
On the pruning heart that shears the loss
For I have lost my loves on the spare
And I have spared you for quite some time
Is it the vision that pursues me?
Such a renaissance man you are,
Such a sophisticated man to the world
Your poetry lingers like soft ice cream
Tainted with a foolery that is brilliance--
Oh don\'t touch the screen
You\'ll get paint all over it,
For your love is a silent movie
Sculpted in the eyes of a teenage girl
In a grown woman\'s heart;
Oh negligence is no silent partner of mine
My mind is blown by the wayside
And trappery is the loveliest trap
Sing to me while you hold me captive
Flatter me in your suspense
Oh paint me; paint me naked in the wind
With a glorious flower in my hair--
Make me look like the woman in your dreams
With soft lips and gentle breasts,
Your gentle hands may touch me
And all the while
I see the difference,
I get excited when you make love to me through art
And your kisses are rare
Like an unhinged cat
And your touch is like butter
On soft bread...
Oh kiss me in the night, you fool
For you are so brilliant
You hypnotize the moon,
For the moon sees your reverence in retrospect
And undying hands touch the gold--
Oh the boldness of your foolery remains
For every artist is a fool
Wrapped in gold revelries
And human stars.