My Hands Are Tied

my hands are tied i paint with fingers safely stored in my heart chambers and an ever ready canvas at the back of my mind to dribble you down into surreal, realist, impressionistic and modernist lines there are so many parts of you that inspire your soft lips are a tube of pastel pink it dissolves and runs through my body an engaging spasmodic touch and shade your eyes are apples gleaming dew on grass glittering diamonds your round shapely fingers to put magic into them is to work the bristles the way lips would run through them your ears are celestial drums reverberating through a landscape of creation that revels in a world of art your gait is a realist's fetish it works step by step inch by inch a savoir faire my heart pines to pour into everybody's cup of tea such blurry fiery simmering dreamlike night who would i paint but you? the fireworks bursts in blue, pink and green over an ocean of longings and fantasies stroke and stroke of red trail thick and thin over an insurmountable field that eventually spirals and spills into an impressionistic ecstacy i die to commit them all onto a masterpiece for a lifetime of memory of youth trailblazing at its prime