For Justin

because I want you to remember

how I was once kind of beautiful

I will paint you pictures

and etch on glass                                                         

who I want to be

once this sickness of the year

leaves my poison breath

I so infected you with.

Oils in blue black dripping rain from my fingertips.

A house in the forest with one light on.

A scratched eye with a glint to tease

beneath long, lovely lashes.

I show you palette after palette

the mix I’m desperate at–where’s the right colors,

how would you like it, how am I sense?

I urge you from the door with blank canvases,

and I’m not one for persuasion.

Your hidden eye, your hidden pity

and goodbye.  I paint for myself.

About these ads

“I take a deep breath and listen to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.” –Sylvia

The edge…there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over. -Hunter S. Thompson


  1. says

    Yes, we paint for ourselves. I have a sequence of good-bye tributive poems myself– I enjoyed this and I especially like:

    I urge you from the door with blank canvases,

    and I’m not one for persuasion.

    write on! xj

  2. says

    I was once beautiful too. Sniff, sniff, self pity. My lashes are still long, tho!

    This is a crazy-good poem.

    My honor to meet your words and talent via One Shot.

  3. Sheila Moore says

    Wonderful Amy. You have been reborn it seems. Been given a new blank canvas to creat something beautiful with!

  4. says

    stunning piece.

    Invite you to share your poetry with our poetry potluck today,
    Random poems, poems unrelated to our theme are welcome!

    Hope to see you in.
    Bless your talent.

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