She leapt one day into my path.
It was an autumn month, the chill was hard to bear. I asked her not to hurt me.
The chill was already perched on my toes and was flying in circles ready to nest there for the season. In haste, thus, I said "Whatever you want, take". And she did.
She came in a canvas of creamy white and flowing tresses. A dreamy mist that jumped into my shadow.
I'd tell the artist, whose treasured picture she jumped out of, put her away. Take her out of me. She's risen upto my neck holding it in a half nelson.
He looked sternly. Talking of one's masterpiece in a manner, like so? How dare I!
So she innocently follows me through the artist's present for me. I laugh and play with her dark cloud upon where I stand.
Oh what shame!
The artist didn't paint me.
His fine fingers to adorn his canvas with me. His long lashes for my face to sit in.
Oh the horror!
The artist didn't paint me. But he hung her upon my wall.
The angel that mocks. Her halo so golden.
Which he hung upon my wall.
"Such childishness!", you'd say.
For wasn't it you who sought him at the Art Fair? Wasn't it you who asked only for his best?
Lo behold!
His masterpiece you now hold.
"Such deception!", you'd cry.
For wasn't it you who gave her anything she'd want? In the dark alley where she'd been silent of her want ?
And thus!
She took what you gave.
In my shadow I live.
That was mugged one fine autumn day. When she soaked herself in my warm coat from Dusk.
So in my shadow I live.
Half of which.
Now isn't me.
3 comments:
Beautifully thought provoking.
It reminds me of something I saw
"I'd rather be hated for who I am, than be loved for who I'm not. Wanting to be someone else is a waste of who you are"
- Kurt Cobain
You've put it in a more appealing way, though.
Thank you for the wishes, I hope blogchaat wins too.
;)
This is so much similar to how I think, and so much better than how I could ever write
raja: If you do indeed normally think like this then allow me to give you one good shake!
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