...Upon The Canvas Of Me

Soul Poetry


dotted hues
in abstracts of many memories,
are water-colored forever,
...upon the canvas of me.


Brush-stroked dreams
of this still lifed composition,
contrast the forms
of what is reality,
...upon the canvas of me.


In perspective,
my spectrum is boldened,
by the symmetry
of these roughened textures,
...upon the canvas of me.


I wait for the lighting
to be perfect,
for my muse to work her medium,
deftly creating a balance,
...upon the canvas of me.


But the highlights
are much too dimmed,
the colors, too muted,
by the black and white starkness,
...upon the canvas of me.



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