Sunday, June 17, 2007

as any day, but it wasn't

it could have been as any day, but it wasn't. it was the day after.

i sat down to paint. i felt peculiarly dislocated and though my eyes were witness to the brilliant colors being left on the page in gentle strokes, i could not feel present. my mind floated above me and conflicted with my attention. but those floating thoughts, i could not grasp. and so they were washed away with leftover paint down a sink of porcelain.

it is becoming evening. the sun is nearly descended and the fan spinning above me, feels a friend. a constant, peace bringing friend that makes this dimly lit room feel just a bit more than what it is. and my gaze flits from focus to focus but does not find.

expression seems the only thing that brings me solace and distraction, and even now my fingers yearn to touch ivory and black, finding notes to speak for this silent one.

company was offered, but was not accepted for my heart is so weary and pained that it bids me, "Let it rest a while."


Jason Pestell said...

Je t'aime avec tout le coeur, ma belle demoiselle!