Day 28: write a sight poem. My second attempt at writing a sight poem.
Painted truths and beautiful lies unaltered states of psychedelic haze under your influence would have been better than the focused unfiltered splotches thrown; to see everything raw, real, untouched on the canvas of me.
The hurt cut the taut tarp of my heart. The sting healed by the hard whiskey 🥃 poured on the open wounds will take a moment to heal, to regulate my breathing.
I kept that ruined picture of me hidden away from you and your untrained eyes. As a starving artist trying to view what is created on the canvas, looking for a masterpiece of love to see.
By Pamelap
Your Plate or Mine 