Saturation



The
world tried
to turn her skin into a coffin
but art, love and words
were her melanin.

She was a palette of divinity.

A high priestess of the color spectrum.

A visual representation of Coltrane’s

A Love Supreme.

The sound of blood rushing

through my veins.

My breathing.

I watched from afar
as she observed life,
turning every second
into a muse;

jealous at how light
was greeting her skin;

shadows and rainbows
arguing over who would
accompany her throughout
the day.

She bathed in creativity
and smelled like a spring
sunrise in Zamunda.

When she stared at me,
all I could think of was
a lazy Sunday where want
become a canvas and our
bodies the paint;

fingertip brushstrokes
and tongues dabbling
in each other's details;

Basquiat & Kahlo on purpose.

She made me remember why I couldn’t keep my hands off Crayolas.



© 2017 abruvanamedsly




Spectral Figure 2


0 comments:

COPYRIGHT © 2013 ~ 2017 ABRUVANAMEDSLY. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.