Still.
Published in
1 min readMay 14, 2017
My eyelids used to be canvases
for my imagination.
Purples and blues,
in several different hues,
would spread like fireworks.
Formless and flawless
they would paint rivers
turned mountains
turned smiles.
O, the colors have set.
The varnish is binding.
This art, each time my eyes shutter.
After all of this time,
despite sensibility,
your eyes.
You.
Still.