Love and Art

It’s national poetry writing month! Whoo hoo! If you guys remember, last year I participated in this as well, basically every day for the month of april we’re supposed to write a poem. I may not post all of the ones that I write because my time lately is very limited (hence my absence). But I will try my hardest to share with you guys. okay, enough rambling, here’s the poem:

Love and Art

He is a poem with a pen in its hand
A canvas with a vision
A sculpture with wet clay caked beneath it’s fingertips

He has ink in his veins
Smells of drying paint and dreams
The roof of his mouth reads like Braille of lyrics he won’t share until they emulate perfection

He…is an artist
Which reads…he is complicated.

He lives for creation
Loves hard
Holds tight
Until he needs the holding

He is a flight risk at four a.m.
When most have long turned their faces to meet the cool side of the pillow he is a million miles away in a world of imagination

His mind is a stealthy mistress
Yet you’ll find pieces of yourself in everything he conceives
There will be traces of your smile in the corner edges of his artistry
You will hear your name played out in every melody he composes

There are some people who feel art,
The words of a poet become tangible
The strokes of a painters brush and a sketchers pen leave goose bumps rising across flesh
The swells and crashes of a musicians voice or instruments leaves lungs breathless

Those are the people that love the hardest
They love in the most honest sense because they feel it from a different angle than others
That’s why when he says it, that he loves you, you’ll know he means it
And it will be overwhelming and scary to be loved so wholly
Because love is an art form and he is an artist with a complex for perfectionism

But you, you’re one of those people too, the ones that feel everything 
And I reckon you’re just as complicated as he 

*side note: so this poem started off as one thing, I thought it was gonna be a simple love poem about one couple but as I was finding my words I realized that it’s not about one specific person but rather about a type of people. Artist are emotional beings (not all but most) and so I wanted to not limit the way an artist can love by a generic art form. Poets, painters, sculpters, singers, writers…we all have the ability to love so hard simply because we are more aware of emotions in order to use them for our art. At the same time it makes us difficult to love. Whoever is with us will inevitably become a part of our work and that can be trying on any soul. Anyways, I’m not sure if I’m even making the point I initially set out to make in explaining this poem, I may have only complicated things further but…oh well. I hope you enjoyed the poem! 

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