Airbrushed

The highest condition of art is artlessness. - Thoreau

true love or fashioned figment

impassioned in rich, devoted pigment

a genuine work of art

incredible, indelible or so i thought

so beautiful

so bountiful

so deep

wearing your troubled essence

swearing an undying love for you

intricate

intimate

legitimate

now bruised in black and blue

everywhere i go

everything i do

part of you inks my trembling arm that yearns like the needle turning the screw

i wonder if we're done, through

i wish i had clue

how to retrace the lines

reinjecting color

under my skin

redrawing the faded love we once knew

the truth we once drew

straightening that which went askew

maybe we can touch it up

this infected

disconnected

dejected

tattoo

Author's Note

"A written word is the choicest of relics. It is something at once more intimate with us and more universal than any other work of art. It is the work of art nearest to life itself. It may be translated into every language, and not only be read but actually breathed from all human lips; -- not be represented on canvas or in marble only, but be carved out of the breath of life itself." - Thoreau

Reviews

[Poetic Beauty]

Some loves are tattooed under our skin and with time fade in to barely recognizable lines. Wishing to get back what once was. Ahh now I have an idea for a poem...

This poem tells a tale of a love that is fading and the narrator is trying to figure out how to make it like be again.

[Pete]

a subject right up your alley ... :)

[Poetic Beauty]

Yes I have actually been working on the poem off and on while doing other things today

[mattavelli]

Hello, Pete! :)
This is lovely and sad. I suppose we inject a bit of fantasy into everything, little anchors connecting our minds to the world.

[Pete]

don't we though? today's treasure can easily become tomorrow's trash (not so easy to discard or cover up). thanks mattavelli ... :)