Oil on Canvas

Her face, framed by vibrant cerulean, looks smooth to the touch

Like the finest porcelain.

Despite its pallor, her cheeks bloom with soft, subtle warmth.

My fur brush traces the arch of her brows,

the gentle slope of her nose,

and the dip of cupid’s bow, resting on her upper lip.

Her mouth is open, breathless, holding onto silent wishes.

Yearning to be filled with the breath of another.

I paint them in shades of peach and pink.

And the pearl I gave to her hangs delicately,

Richer than anything she has ever called her own,

Luminescent, yet pale in comparison to her innocent eyes.

The gleam in her eyes calls to me,

As she watches, in shades of grey and violet

With cool brown undertones.

Twin gemstones reveal the things

I wish those lips could one day whisper;

The feelings I’ve captured on canvas but never heard.

Strokes of black hug her silhouette and

I breathe a sigh of mourning;

Her portrait is complete.

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If you liked this poem, try out my top story poem, Mary.