Maestro

Mar 6

My soul wrapped around me like canvas as my skin,

Soft oils dripping down my fingertips;

Too delicate to touch, though looking

Is always enough; As I glistened in the light

Golden skin outshining the Sun.

Your eye’s grew wide, as they met mine

My body is a work of art and you; It’s maestro.

Once venerating all I was; Familiar with every brush stroke,

Soon, I became not enough.

Painting over my gold with beige and white,

I lost my soul;

Keeping my body, you let me go.

Driving her off a cliff,

To keep her deep purple bruises rich.

Drowning her in salty depths, rolling her in flower beds;

To get the perfect blues and reds.

And when you hung her high on a wall,

You tied the noose tightly;

Ensuring your piece didn't fall.

When she turned grey, You let her down gently

Holding her near, while wiping her face clear

Catering to her with water and oil, In loving embrace,

Regretting the heavy canvas’s you create;

And you kiss her again.

Whispering our name,

So I stay; In hopes to wear the love we made.

If I’d only known, a living art piece was more interesting for you to display

I’d have stayed hidden, safely tucked in my golden array.

Tree