Image credit: Oleg Oprisko
The two seasons came and passed,
and then there was autumn reminding
Me of you. Leaves turned a colourful reddish
Orange, everywhere smelling cold, stale and rigid.
The easel and canvas are ready to go. Paint and brush
In hand but my mind is consumed by you. My blood turns
Cold at the thought of you. My heart bleeds, slowly allowing
the cold to consume the Inner peace in me. I look at the canvas
Before me drenched in red for relief and peace but it escapes me.
In the end, the pain consumes me until there is no more me but a canvas
propped on an easel telling our story.
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