Gazing into your soul, I draw your anger
on a canvas, like an effulgent artist.
A breathless silence I touch
Deep like death
effete like ego
arrogant like an abyss
monarchal like memories.
On a palette I blend your temper
all the shining hues testify to
your love-stains flowing like a waterfall--
Soft, dense, sinuous.
How can one not be jealous of such exquisiteness?
Not without this art I've lived, nor I wish to:
How can I bid adeiu?
