We’re painting the roses red
When I spill my bottle of wine
Laughing the silly words we said
Running through the sunshine
Gathering inspiration to write
Leaning against their picket fence
Together & the songs we recite
Friendship allows life to make sense
Evading their ongoing tragedies
Forty summers spent down in the dirt
Withstanding the weight of apocalypse
Emerging; though slightly less overt
Blast furnace of the afternoon sun
Dali walking barefoot on Tampa’s shores
Pale riders within unabsorbed light
Embracing purity through perception’s doors
The paint of our secret love notes
But can only be read through the keyhole
Shying away from all public renditions
Her passionate words left imprinted on my soul
Seeking a spiritual remedy
For my soul isn’t quite whole
Burnt out & emotionally drained
Tea cup’s empty & I’m no longer in control
Midcentury motif & I’m peeling paint
Shrinking violets & closing in walls
Pushing back against our growing pains
Energy to create, but my life remains a free fall
Dreams & fates return forthwith
Stars falling from under her dress
Elegantly raised up from her seat
Floating lightly with each soft caress
The town is alive tonight
Her body spun upon her painted toes
A culmination of efforts built upon
The bunched cloth forgotten in the throes
Transparent dresses hanging in the mud room
Saran-Wrapped for mild protection
Eyes closed to foreign tales
Tempered thoughts of stifled affection
Painted prose with regurgitated eyes
Our dreams left choking on the floor
Scribbling beliefs with thick gouges
Manufactured truth with cries of Nevermore
Redundant weight of classical heroes
Forcing us into bastardized Groupthink
Yet my mind still wanders to her opaque passion
Chasing her dragon with endless ink
I want to paint our love
Though which brush to use
Impossible to err
With you as my muse
Your painted lips upon the tea cup
A bountiful feast spread before you
A grateful life filled with laughter
There is nothing you wouldn’t do
Thinking of everyone else first
Within that most beautiful chest
Contains a self-sacrificing heart
Please know I’ll always love you the best
I wish I could paint
Placing my mind on display
I wish I could draw
Expressing myself in another way
Instead, I’ll hammer these words
Sifting them through
Every one; my soul
An extra note written to you
Transfiguring lips into Fabergé petals
Feeling decadent painting the night sky
Let us rejoice with our illustrious words
Palpitating deliberately when bliss is nigh
These fanciful & bountiful thoughts of yonder
Possibly plentiful but not quite enough for us
Imaginative; creating a softer substantial side
We’re most serene when we’re a bit mussed
“They thought I was a Surrealist, but I wasn’t. I never painted dreams. I painted my own reality.” – Frida Kahlo
Image by Jinali Parikh from Pixabay
Captain Q 