Human Art

Knowing only recently  

what it means to long for something 

so far out of reach

I imagine him to be art.

In my mind’s eye, 

his image is unwaveringly beautiful.

The planes of his face are shaded in the moonlight of my memory

his features casting starlight strokes upon a canvas 

in my head

I paint my lips with a promise of love 

though doubt and passion mingle with the flames of my affection. 

Reviews

[Stoned Immaculate]

I admire the extended metaphor drawing comparisons between a beau and fine art. My favorite part:

-"The planes of his face are shaded in the moonlight of my memory
-his features casting starlight strokes upon a canvas
-in my head
-I paint my lips with a promise of love "