Muse.

Fade, her face
And the colors on her dress
Appear a shade darker
Her kohl is a bit smudged
Its evident
She’s been crying
The tears on her pillow
Feel fresh
But she doesn’t move
There’s a flicker in her eyes
Her welled up eyes
Reflect of a tornado
Struck someplace far
Or a dream
Of utopia
A calamity in her eyes
She’s still
Only the curves move
On my canvas
And colors
As I merge one with the other
As one slides to another
I’ve got her back, now,
A stroke of a hair here
Falling smoothly over her face
Let’s not reveal her eyes
Let them fall over
For I’m keeping those to myself.
Muse.

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