monet skies. -as done by picasso

imagine - if you could
your own world of insecurities
humbled by broken/ pseudo dreams and
pipe-cleaner reality

emotions mixed with whitewashed lipstick
as your kisses erase all traces of simplicity


rectified 'wrongs' of a yesterday long gone
listening to the sounds of the city sing sweet lullabies
maybe next time- we can seem more amiss
as the fireflies dance to the beat of
shadow fighters and liplocked nightstalkers
and the smoke from your soul is left to linger
we watch the sun break the horizon as a
beautiful Monet sky
paints itself. priceless art in memory

your perfectly pixilated face of limestone lies
juxtaposed on a line of denial
lead to a momentary lapse of leftover memories
cast about on wings of ebony eccentrics


and your painted on smiles and re-sold tomorrows
run down the canvas of this life
fading into a futile fury
hearts bleeding through paper
like words slung with much more than ink.
and the sylables are disheartening


as I scream-

do you pray that they can see the real you



because
I see only abstract