The weight of a woman lands
on a blank face of woven slate,
as, creating glance is taking to be
not the easiest of beauty's tasks.
I hold a thin brush under grips
of cold finger tips, choking up,
hold alittle higher; stoke the
brittle strings of paper fiber
with a dripping bow soaked in mental
growth formulating paint strokes
while I orchestrate this instrumental.

Look forward into her porcelain
skin before I blink, shook my
sore head as swelling eyes widen
and her sight melts a mans mind
while staring into two pastel eyes.
With every past splash of green
I press to the head of this masterpiece
we grasp another golden moment
together in an ever lasting notion.

The lush greens always craved
the ready touch of a heavy brush
stroke, and although the choking
of swallows along a lungless throat
haunted the dawn of every hollow
ending to the beauty of a rising note;
She couldn't help but to follow me,
her eyes had died......................
It was I who decided to dye them envy.

The heart broken brush cried
a scared spectrum's dyeing shards
of love as I wiped his marred eyes
against a stretch of page to create fine art.
Her open portrait basked in the last
intuition of a past moments unfortunate
collapse as the final draft of confliction
styled her beautiful smile in disposition.

The doors part, she's on display,
Leonardo's love holds a piece of
his soul, and you can see Mona Lisa's
every reflecting emotion attending
.......... Depending on your day.


http://community.rapverse.com/showthread.php?t=222834
http://community.rapverse.com/showthread.php?t=191769