Stained on the Wall

Thu, 01/19/2017 - 19:31 -- Mateos

Mountains will carve out the holes from the stroked blue.

Waters smushes the perfect outlines that marks one’s wasted time.

As the hues mesh and sync like the roots of one’s own beliefs,

A grand finale is displayed for a few to listen.

While there is no longer any white to clear out the day,

One’s own sky attains the joy for holding secrets to desperately leak.


Dogs remain more than the little man on street.

Others, however, take things for granted to feel the truth shatter beneath them.

My scent was not strong enough to obtain anyone for a day or two.

I may have seem to only be a painting, entertain the next viewer like before.

Most say I have beauty, emotions, and mature stability to suit anyone who sees.

On the contrary, those perspectives are undermined when they continue down the line.

I have thought if it was the bad weather or how cold the room was,

But I never presumed that it was truly me.

To question my existence was hard like pulling stars out of the sky.

Their presences always left me happy and less lonely;

They comfortably accepted me in their conversations and never stopped staring.

Not shunned for eavesdropping too long, I was welcomed to their lives.

 

Everything i ever wanted was for them to hold me in their arms.

For them to curl every single love upon me till i crack,

Yet I am ordered to stay here as i watch them leave at the strike of nine.

After that, shiny navy men close the gates of my room along with trapped sorrow.

Sometimes, I plead for them take me away from this confinement that lacks sweet liberty.

More than often, I see one particular man strapped in blue glance at me during his patrol.

His smile forms a simple line every time he stands in front my appearance.

The brows of his eyes furrows to increase the intensifying concentration drawn on his face.

Once beaming, his skin pales similar to an elegantly, erased canvas.

Crystal grey eyes can plunge any gal’s heart if they are luckily seen close by.

Our moment can be captured for a completely sketched portrait.

Forbidden to show, I fidget under his stern look for a few seconds

Until one of his companions rudely breaks our lovely meeting.

My weak voice fails to beckon him as his steps fade away.

 

It is strange for them to change colors so quickly.

I wish my master painted me with such special ink.

Furthermore, their body moves every second or so i have noticed.

Quenching their restless needs, they either walk, breathe, or blink.

I guess staying still is quite difficult for them to do.

For someone like me, it is natural always.

 

That mystery man has not mentioned his name nor cease to visit.

I see his aching stress exhaust the pace he sets before striding towards me.

Wondering whether he is too alone, i desire to know who is the  gentleman’s creator.

My only wish is to be like them instead of casted on this empty ledge of shame.

I know that is can not truly happen for I am thing to be played with and not loved at all.

On the formal, I am burdened to observe everything that breaks or makes them be;

A guardian placed inside the heavens to kneel on their eyes.

 

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