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I wish I were an artist.

Trace your curvature of lines
in vivid detail and remark on the thickness
smooth lips as they intense with hues of graphite and stencil.
Wish I could paint vividly.
an encased reverie
of just you and I
to become we.
oh, how I wish to be
the stroke on your body and retrace
its endings and firm beginnings,
retold in pastels, water soluble paints
and revamped historical perspectives.

I only wish to capture the image of you.

Recapture the soul and
eyes of orbs encased in the human skull
so hard to shift elements in globs of watercolor.
tell tales of high cheekbones and broad shoulders
free following of a pencil in raised eyebrows and
sympathetic frowns.

A white eraser clings nearby,
swiftly chasing hopes and dreams,
lines drawn dark holed black and now
vanishing  in dematerialized
crumpled portraits.

Poem 22 of 30, April 2012

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