If I could capture the sky
and make the stars do my bidding,
would the darkness recede?
If I could pour voice into a thousand hues,
would you understand my thoughts?
I have taken hold of time,
framed it inside the rooms of my private asylum,
your face, your presence remain fixed in this moment
stroked by my brushes,
subdued in the light of my will.
not even this myriad of strokes
can remove an ounce of my soul
nor perforate the walls of my flesh.
My words ricochet in my chest.
Can you hear them?
Shall I see more with eyes open or closed?
Would less of me
make more of you?
“I often think that the night is more alive and more richly coloured than the day.” — Vincent van Gogh