A Mind Entwined
My arms did move in blazing strokes,
As from it, words, as whispered smoke,
Bled into paintings made from mine.
My darker tones of blues and blacks
Wove into all that I had lacked,
And yet, to portraits I designed.
Within the depths of such a heart,
These painted lines did pull apart
To form a mortal from my breast.
The figure born was made of threads,
Of brilliant yellows, brilliant reds,
That to my rosy cheeks, caressed.
My heart did beat a pounding pace
As all along my jaw, my face,
His fingers drew a bordered path.
And when my mind was all but numb
His searing mouth, to mine, did come,
To fill the lines his hands had cast.
My soul was touched, as was my flesh,
As, to my skin, the man did sketch
A colored burn, a roaring flame.
And as we moved our skin did stain
With painted hues and painted rain
Till all our colors ran the same.