The painter paints

The painter paints.

Splattered my dreams

of love on canvas, red;

flowing, running images

no longer framed, disabled.

Dried in the making

she brushed my love

having all control,

she was the painter.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

love is like an abstract---we have no control over what we see in the painting...we feel it more than see it.

[andrew mitchell]

Thank you Jacob for your words