dawson,
Just before the sun sets
I sit on the beach
Staring out into the vast open
Seeing you in my mind
Visualizing a familiar unknown
And just like that I was inspired
By a muse that I do not know
I set my canvas
And make your figure as I see the world
I’ll start to draw your outline.
I’d draw every curve of your face-
Your horizon where the world and beauty would meet
Drawing the shape of your neck down to your shoulders
Knowing how you fit perfectly inside my arms
I’ll fill you with color
As you did me
The sun-kissed skin of the warm and salty shore
I’d darken the creases to define the features of your face
And make your eyes as dark and blue
As the sea is having deeper meaning in its unknown depth
I’ll draw every wrinkle, every scar
With a fine brush, detailing who you are
Signifying experience and the passing of time itself
And how you changed and came into being
With one last graceful stroke
I finished the pursed lips that I came to love
And suddenly you were a little bit more real
And I was a little bit more whole
As I basked in the paradise
That manifests in my paint-filled canvas
Feeling content of what I made
But knowing that somehow it also made me
I know I can’t let go of the art—
That is you
Literary: Painted Paradise
Just before the sun sets
I sit on the beach
Staring out into the vast open
Seeing you in my mind
Visualizing a familiar unknown
And just like that I was inspired
By a muse that I do not know
I set my canvas
And make your figure as I see the world
I’ll start to draw your outline.
I’d draw every curve of your face-
Your horizon where the world and beauty would meet
Drawing the shape of your neck down to your shoulders
Knowing how you fit perfectly inside my arms
I’ll fill you with color
As you did me
The sun-kissed skin of the warm and salty shore
I’d darken the creases to define the features of your face
And make your eyes as dark and blue
As the sea is having deeper meaning in its unknown depth
I’ll draw every wrinkle, every scar
With a fine brush, detailing who you are
Signifying experience and the passing of time itself
And how you changed and came into being
With one last graceful stroke
I finished the pursed lips that I came to love
And suddenly you were a little bit more real
And I was a little bit more whole
As I basked in the paradise
That manifests in my paint-filled canvas
Feeling content of what I made
But knowing that somehow it also made me
I know I can’t let go of the art—
That is you
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