You love someone else.
Perhaps I do,
too.
But maybe this is
still a good thing
to celebrate?
Like fire and water,
there is something
more ancient, more primal
than merely the heart.
I felt it the very first time we met,
and we weaved & moved
around each other,
and when the drumming finally finished
you gently touched my hair.
You started a small fire that night.
I am not the same man I was then.
And you are not the same woman.
We have changed,
yet we remain
the same.
What was it your chart said?
A year of change...
Fire and water,
water and fire.
I have shed my skin again,
but I have learnt many things
in the last year.
Your smile is still
one of the most beautiful things
I have ever seen,
but I would love to see your tears, too.
I lay claim to being many things,
but never, ever a saint /
I do most of my painting (these days)
with words, not paint.
Things, last year,
they got a little messy,
didn't quite go as planned /
But I'm hoping
if you saw the bigger picture,
you might begin to understand.
This is a heady mix
of lust & longing on my palette,
desire
on a sable brush /
If I were to tell you
what I long to do tonight,
your canvas
would surely shiver,
ignite in fire & blush!
We could talk (my dear)
of love
in pastel shades,
and yet! /
Tonight, of nights
alone with you,
I long to paint you
scarlet!!
Fire and water,
water and fire...
The sun, it may yet rise
in those eyes,
but let me be /
The swollen,
pale, fullest of moon
that sinks into your sea...
These are not words,
they are my artist's statement /
They are written on your skin
in starlight & honey,
so profane,
yet so sacred.
You reached over,
& touched my hair again today.
It was all so brief.
I wished for it
to stay there just a little longer.
Water and fire, fire and water.
It has been
some time
since
someone
has set
this watersign on fire.
(c) Brent M Harpur, 2013.
"There are some days that I feel I may die from an overdose of satisfaction." (Salvador Dali)
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