New paintings on a fabled canvas,
Watercolours blend against pasty portraits,
Washed paint obstinately merging,
Tempting beauty in the lies of an artist,
The fabric to another her of opportunity
The eyes on a sketch, caged in oblivion,
Details of feeble faith on a disarray of silhouettes,
Looking deeper upon soulless masquerades,
Smoky-thick truths behind faultless artistry,
The texture to another her of sorrow
Framed in cunning credibility, static-still,
No words to fuse unto acrylic vigilance,
Reality immerses amongst dried glaze,
The veneer to another her of obscurity
Beauty mustn’t then be in the eye of the beholder
You killed me so sweetly.
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