in my room the sun is almost setting,
flushing watercolors up against the sky.
stained with dark red, unnecessary brushstrokes —
the canvas’s staying blank,
transparent in its innocence
and
ignorance,
and
pierced right through,
done nothing wrong.
the artist is the one to blame.
who in his fury came
and ripped apart what felt like soul,
the vagueness of a home.
keep chasing —
the canvas’s staring blank
as shadows in my room grow bigger.
[is it some sand i’m tasting on my tongue?
or is it what a victory feels like?]
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Comments2
A really interesting and introspective piece that held my interest and was compelled to immediately reread it.
“artist…to blame “ “ripped…what felt like soul “ and though that canvas is blank , I’m feeling that it represents an undaunted survival to cheer and to boldly say this sand on my tongue means in here and it’s a celebration and it might as well be honey. Freaking really really nice and I’m a big fan.
i just looove reading your interpretations!!
thank you so much, i’m glad you liked it
Dig. If you like hip hop maybe read or watch the one piece I’ve presented with a video
Titled
THELONIUS REBORN AS THE DEE OH DOUBLE G.
https://mypoeticside.com/show-poem-163174
Brilliant...nice use of space and time to move the piece.
wow, i’m super excited that you noticed that!! thank you, dear friend
You are welcome.
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