deepundergroundpoetry.com
My Still Hand
Secrecy in watercolours along my body,
painting from new pallets with the same old brush.
Digging into old lids to find a darker shade,
a deeper crimson to splash along the tiles.
Closer to finishing without a disturbance,
shortness of breath with a pale blue touch.
Mixing colours from this lifeless shell,
a razor for a brush in my still hand.
painting from new pallets with the same old brush.
Digging into old lids to find a darker shade,
a deeper crimson to splash along the tiles.
Closer to finishing without a disturbance,
shortness of breath with a pale blue touch.
Mixing colours from this lifeless shell,
a razor for a brush in my still hand.
Published 22nd Dec 2013
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22nd Dec 2013 8:19pm
Anonymous
22nd Dec 2013 8:26pm
<< post removed >>
23rd Dec 2013 4:00pm
Thank you for your comments. I'm guessing that you have read between the lines of this poem and understood it's meaning?
