The painting (poetry)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
The girl I used to love created a painting that she never showed anyone, it was remarkable and it was a portrait of her. I never knew she suffered from depression until she explained the painting, and I decided to write a poem to go along with is. Not long after she left without so much as a goodbye.

Submitted: January 15, 2010

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Submitted: January 15, 2010

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The Painting

I once saw a painting my eyes could not see.
Yet every little detail seemed so clear to me.
No pencil, no paint, no color or hue.
But I saw the girl and her shadow of blue.

Dark grey skies smeared over the page,
Scared? Depressed? Maybe filled with rage?
The field, the sparrow, and the sycamore tree,
A typical story, it fit so perfectly.

Her sleek, dark hair framed her delicate face,
Matched with fiery eyes no one could replace.
The fire in her eyes, they dimmed to a glow,
That once illumined the dark a long while ago.

Darkness had cradled her for far too long,
She collapsed in despair and could not keep strong.
She’s trapped and she’s lost with nowhere to flee,
Her method of escape had failed miserably.

She hugged her legs close and held herself tight,
A tear slid down her face, she was losing the fight.
I blinked my eyes once and she disappeared,
It was not hate; it was love that she feared.

I once saw a painting my eyes could not see.
Yet every little detail seemed so clear to me.
No pencil, no paint, no color or hue.
But I saw the girl and her shadow of blue


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