White Noise.

The sharp white screeches

blind me and I choke on acrid smoke

i can't seem to keep up

and everything is a blur

" can't hold on "

a tear rolls into the ocean

and i watch my reflection

fade with the setting sun.

Not an artist.

If someone gave me a paintbrush and told 

me to paint my feelings onto a canvas,

i'd choose to paint the stars and the northern lights 

because I could never capture your smile the 

way you capture me and the stars are the 

closest thing to how bright you are

so don't burn out, not yet.

But she is.

She's an artist, he says,

looking at the world through the eyes of a painter.

What a sad, sad world it is--

so she tries to fill it with colour

but she can't seem to keep within the lines.

Butterfly Kisses

Diamonds glimmer behind veiled lashes,

 flutterflutterflutter on by

sketching constellations in my eyes

[ "stella" ] you whisper under your breath

press your love against my lips,

and i'll press my wishes against your heart.

Palette for thought?

i want to paint my own dreams

across empty canvases of opportunities,

but I have limited tubes of colours

and mixing them just ends up looking dirty.

[ "On second thought, that looks pretty good." ]

"Yeah, it reminds me of me."