The Portrait
He cloaked her skin
with a dark silk gown
made of tattered wings
neath the hunter' skies
He covered her hair
with a mourning veil
Upon her face
his hands did play
Mysteriously
the vacant gaze
the secret pains
His brush did paint
the monaliza's eyes
upon her lips
he carved a smile
with no expressions
nor expectations
of what one is to behold
Enigmatic, Suffocating
Secret whispers still untold
Ghostly mist will keep on lingering
in the silence of her soul
There she stares
from the old portrait
Would somebody let her go?
He stares
He ponders
Was this the girl who entered his dream?
Did he paint her pain?
Was she the same?
Lush lips that couldn't smile
Sullen eyes that couldn't lie
telling of strife
unable to bloom
sheltered from the light
Futures slowed
Hopes dashed
Dreams crushed
Was he to save her?
Thoughts echoed in his mind
Is he her savior?
Her mystery?
Her hero?
Will he fly to her side?
Will he be her star that shines?
Listen closely
the portrait calls
save me, come save me
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