what is it you want from me
the painting whispers to my eyes
its silence louder than any sound
a question trembling beneath my skin
is this beauty or is it ruin
truth hides in shadows of every stroke
my hands reach for an answer that
slips through like sand through fists
colors clash like love and resentment
they hold hands in perfect disarray
how can chaos feel this comforting
and why does calmness cut so deep
you ask so much of me it sighs
but still my gaze remains unyielding
in tension lies the story untold
and perhaps that is meaning itself
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Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: June 3rd, 2025 10:11
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Licence
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