The Painting

She’s a painting, conceived in tinted strokes Smooth as the feather’s tips, drifting through canvas, The alchemist’s wand waltzes in curls, Enraptured in pacific zephyr, her entire universe unfurls An abstruse domain of love, artist’s exaltation of philosophical ecstasy, An amalgamation of his wondrous thoughts, it sees no boundary. Plunging into his mysterious psyche, Deeper into his notions vast as the frenzied sea He designed her, his fingertips silhouetting her eternity Holding within, his beliefs, his entirety. I’m that painting, and I see your beauteous valour In every cell of mine, painted in a unique colour With a lone story to tell, and each endeavours to absorb the mystiques of the lovers’ spheres. I breathe in the magic and fill in my memoirs And every shade you add, adds to my yearns and desires. Though with each stroke of yours, you wish me complete, I tread a step ahead to being incomplete, Oh Dearest! This art without you! Such an arrogant intent! Birthed a monster of unquenched appetite? Such an art undreamt! Or are you a one, composing my fairy-tale, A beginning and an end sketched for me to inhale? Behold Oh artist! As your touches aspire, That mirage of my conclusion you will never acquire. You have started me, but never shall you have my end, Trodden too far in this diegesis, now you can’t even mend! In the dreariest nights I am that lone twinkling star, Shining the brightest, you see me charming afar, That excruciating glow you shall feel its ferocity, The warmth you envisioned, the wrath that it came to be. You dared to mould me in your intimacy, Aiming to end it upon your complacency. And while you turn a blind eye, I stay tormented, In the depravity of your passion, the fresh romance concocted Within you and me, the imperfect design of an enchanting love story, Is washing away the splendour of your colours, the colours in me. These chronicles woven in our numerous days and nights, Like the silky cords of a spiderweb under that one star it scintillates Is the abode of my chaotic heart, my entire existence, Delicate enough, your single strike will rescind my presence! Those cobwebs shall haunt you forever, entangled in A legion of memories of mine engulfing you from within. And I shall discern your dreamless nights, As you walk through the bleached Earth and monotonous moonlights, In your euphoria, a void in you is born In the climax to the painting, A signature forlorn I will be finished, And you, forever unfinished.