Paint my love: Self portrait of a dead romance

Pick up that .08 pen with the fine tip for outlining,
Its ink smudegproof and perfect for high definition
Begin to etch lines on the blank sheet, large sweeping strokes
That cover all the generalizations that one can possibly foist on a single situation

Include tender sweet nothings, deep confidences & painful secrets
Dust a few exquisite memories crafted so carefully, made to bite a lifetime
Sprinkle liberally with Always & Nevers, choked tears and bitten tongues
Spray with heavy duty varnish at the end to seal in the hate, the hurt, the hope

I would have liked it to be monochromatic, just shades of non-colours
Either the presence of too much or the complete absence of light, altogether
But they escaped my brush as I filled in the blank spaces that lay bare
Vivid shades of yellow joy & ultramarine ecstasy, crimson desire & mauve melancholy

I dripped the emerald echoes of quiet togetherness, mundane tasks done in silent companionship
A soft taupe washed up on the large blank tracts of frozen feelings
Words glued to lips & teeth wired shut from being clenched so hard
Fingertips a deep blue from the frostbite of tactile deprivation

There, it stood finished. No masterpiece surely, but a valiant effort for a non-painter
Let it dry, settle in, rest a while. It took a lot and a lot went into it
Before it is relegated to the pile of heartbroken art in the attic