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Likened to a work of some sick artistic genius
who slaved over ink and oil to create a piece
so near to the threashold of perfection
that it one day drove him mad.
The unfinished work was allowed to hang in exhibition, where most onlookers bypassed it. They saw nothing special.
But one patron could not look away.
Stumbling closer to the painting, he was hypnotized by the abstract intracacies.
His eyes, penetrating paint and paper and entering a new plain of pain, pleasure, and nostalgia, began to tear up.
I am one such patron, gazing at a gallery of sculpture and abstract each day in the form of names.
Some make me smile, some make me weep.
Some arouse me. Some allow me an exit from this reality I despise.
Few fill me with rage, but countless others are the antidote for such a poison.
Many go unnoticed, and for this I am sorry.
But only one makes me feel all these at once, and more.
and that's yours.
I'll melt and freeze, kneel and plea,
water deserts, dehydrate seas.
Kill, create, and represent
every flaw I failed to play.
Your eyes are electrified mood rings.
Ink-wells in which I dip my pen when the inspiration is required to describe true beauty.
Looking into them is like staring out two windows on a starship to heaven.
Love, death, and grace seem to circumscribe one another in an alternate cosmos of perpetual peace and passion.
Your smile is a child's first sin: Free will.
beautiful, dangerous and worth every risk.
I would readily jepordize limb and being for a chance of seeing it.
Your lips conceal a tongue sharper than a vampiric fang
capible of drawing blood if needed
and doused in a vocal antidote.
Your voice is an elixer that shakes fear, doubt, and rage from me like a morning breeze shakes dew from virgin meadowgrass.
It pumps blood like no ventrical,
Stones me like no chemical.
Your laugh is a perfect chord, in the leagues of Whitacre or Mozart's hidden masterpieces.
It stirs the air as a perfect mix of dissonance and resolution.
Each breath you draw is a spare blessing to me
from a God I'm almost convinced may exist
simply because of the fact that you exist.