The Portrait (For Grant)

The portrait you painted still hangs in my home out of place among my other things high artistry of its kind cannot sit well in a student's dusty room ~o~o~o~o~ The portrait you painted of a lonesome young soul those cool lips, just parted, long brushstrokes his eyes betraying all vows to withhold confessions of the wounded heel ~o~o~o~o~ The portrait you painted is the strangest mirror red tones catching fire in morning sun how I have laughed before it, cried before it and it will not move