The Restorer

Your beauty assassinated the canvas, as I

delineated shades of you

shades that portray deceptively the

achromatic shadows, of

your fathomless eccentricities

I blend colours of you, colours

that deceive the light, and

infiltrate your lashed forest floor, posturing

I paint over you — chiascuro

As I race you across the canvas, you

run and I cannot quite capture your essence

I smudge over you —

As I trace my hand across your dissonant features,

contorting your frown with my souls shifting hues

With tender brushstrokes I paint your lips, in

motion with the dew from my souls memoirs

I have captured your syllabic overtures but

your caress hides in the tinted edges, the

alizarin crimson I blend on the cut angles

of my palette

I quill reservoirs with my chromatic blood,

watered down

I blush your lips as I remember them last,

They dripped turpentine that poisoned

ripping asunder the masterpiece I created of us

It hangs in my museum, of ancient artifacts —

a featured exhibit

I cannot behold you — you are a still-life

your verdant glaze, high signs — sgrafitto

I’m a restorer — I visit daily,

My kiss — the monogram on the bottom left.

Copyright ©. R Tsambounieri Talarantas. Nov 2019. All Rights Reserved.