Bright, unrealistic colors of love,
Childish, whimsical, even idiosyncratic,
Painting an alternate reality;
a different dimension of life
on the plain, routine canvas,
We use cheap paints and crude brushes
to shape something
to go along our dreams,--
a concrete solidified dream
in an ephemeral world,
Drawing the outlines of hope, safety, light.
Then you realize,
it doesn’t meet your expectations,
So you pick up a soapy mop
to erase the once lovely painting,
which turned into a comic-tragic graffiti,
You become a cleaner
from an artist that you were before.
From fine lines to sloppy mop,
Flop!
Why?
Because we have needs in different compartments,
One picture centered around one object
doesn't go into different chambers:
emotions, thoughts, dreams, desires, lust, needs.
The brush of love
temporarily appears to wade through
all these different needs,
We believe it’s giving all that we need,
Soon we realize it doesn’t,
The picture disappoints us,
We then just stay with each other,
Trying to believe that
we have happily been together.
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