english,
I appreciated you
And deemed you my muse.
Never was I good with words
So to tell my story, the stage I’ll use.
Behind red curtains, I painted you with strokes meant for a masterpiece.
I adored you
And considered you my magnum opus.
I filled my spaces with images of you
But I mistakenly brought you to life
Using colors vivid with my passion
That left me hollow
And reduced me to faded hues.
As the curtains rise, through me they see your beauty but through you I lost myself.
Tonight is not about you.
I made you art, perfection personified,
But tonight, I represent my own art.
Tonight, the lights search for me
As I put my paintbrush down
And leave you behind
In the hopes of finding myself.
As the crowd watches in awed silence, I dance with steps larger than life.
On this stage, I once again learn
To dance and sing for myself
I learn that expression comes first
And impressed souls soon follow.
Thunder crawls inside the opera house
And the reddest of roses rain down,
A reminder that I, too, can be appreciated.
As the red curtain falls, we become the difference between creation and creator.
I have appreciated you for long enough
So with this poem the image of you I tore.
Yes, you are my art, my creation
But remember, I am your creator.
Literary: The Red Curtain
I appreciated you
And deemed you my muse.
Never was I good with words
So to tell my story, the stage I’ll use.
Behind red curtains, I painted you with strokes meant for a masterpiece.
I adored you
And considered you my magnum opus.
I filled my spaces with images of you
But I mistakenly brought you to life
Using colors vivid with my passion
That left me hollow
And reduced me to faded hues.
As the curtains rise, through me they see your beauty but through you I lost myself.
Tonight is not about you.
I made you art, perfection personified,
But tonight, I represent my own art.
Tonight, the lights search for me
As I put my paintbrush down
And leave you behind
In the hopes of finding myself.
As the crowd watches in awed silence, I dance with steps larger than life.
On this stage, I once again learn
To dance and sing for myself
I learn that expression comes first
And impressed souls soon follow.
Thunder crawls inside the opera house
And the reddest of roses rain down,
A reminder that I, too, can be appreciated.
As the red curtain falls, we become the difference between creation and creator.
I have appreciated you for long enough
So with this poem the image of you I tore.
Yes, you are my art, my creation
But remember, I am your creator.
0 comments: