• A writers hand,
    Sculpting the page with vibrant words.
    Delicate; Lovingly. Almost like an Artist.
    Smooth brush painting color's of Blue's and Red's.

    Eye's, Bright and Sweet.
    Like Dusty Green orb's that hold so many emotions.
    But they blend so well, Like the artist's paint.
    I can't tell where their difference's lie.

    A Smile, Rare to find in a place of stranger's.
    Unheard of to a blinded world.
    Eye's; Dusty green orb's hiding secrets, shine.
    A ray of light in the raven black cast of darkness.

    That smile, a reason for a mixture of pain and pleasure,
    Creating a Kaleidoscope of color's that could dissolve any twilight sky.
    A heartbeat, missed in the company of the sweetest of grin's,
    And a laugh, sounded quietly in the place of stranger's.

    A voice, spoken to loudly to be recognized.
    Caught in a sea of other's that scream only to be heard.
    Face's, blur past with out a second thought to what surrounds them,
    Without a second glance to the amazement that capture's me.

    An illusion of a picture that never excised,
    A picture that excised only to be an illusion.
    Words twisted with meaning only to fall in to an empty abyss,
    And the tangles of dreams that constrict without thought.