Black on the Canvas
Lost.
Feeling alone and not knowing where you are
Where you’ve been or where you are going
It’s the eyes that feel this way
Tracking colour and light
From left to right
And centre, but there’s something missing
Something sits, a faded out blank
On the canvas of your memory
The first still is of the summer beach
With the sun high and casting
It warm rays and dazzling
Your eyes with the reflections
That shimmer on waters pure blue.
And there’s laughter of others who splash into the sea
And you feel their blood warmth
That follows the fullness that says you are happy
And in the last you stand alone
Your clothes are all soaking, your skin like a prune
Is tight and you shiver and cough up the water
The salt burning fierce in your lungs.
The rain pours down heavy
The thunder sounds loud like canons
That tremble your ears, full of fear
And the spread as the fork of hot gold
Blazes wide and crackles across the night sky
But before that is darkness, a blank
In the canvas, a blip where the story is halted.
Yet that lost scene means everything
Even though it tells you
Nothing.
A faded out blank staining black
On the canvas of your subconsciously
Imperfect whole memory
But also it stains
What remains of who you are now.
Feeling alone and not knowing where you are
Where you’ve been or where you are going
It’s the eyes that feel this way
Tracking colour and light
From left to right
And centre, but there’s something missing
Something sits, a faded out blank
On the canvas of your memory
The first still is of the summer beach
With the sun high and casting
It warm rays and dazzling
Your eyes with the reflections
That shimmer on waters pure blue.
And there’s laughter of others who splash into the sea
And you feel their blood warmth
That follows the fullness that says you are happy
And in the last you stand alone
Your clothes are all soaking, your skin like a prune
Is tight and you shiver and cough up the water
The salt burning fierce in your lungs.
The rain pours down heavy
The thunder sounds loud like canons
That tremble your ears, full of fear
And the spread as the fork of hot gold
Blazes wide and crackles across the night sky
But before that is darkness, a blank
In the canvas, a blip where the story is halted.
Yet that lost scene means everything
Even though it tells you
Nothing.
A faded out blank staining black
On the canvas of your subconsciously
Imperfect whole memory
But also it stains
What remains of who you are now.
♠ ♠ ♠
*Sorry, if you find it difficult to get into the rhythm of it, I can't even read it perfectly 100% of the time. It's just how my poetry rambles ;)
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The story is about amnesia in a person who sees their memories like a canvas that crosses his inner eye like a roll of film. Between two scenes of his life there is a blank, an important scene but a traumatic one as well which he cannot remember. Or you could just interpret this however you want :P Hope you liked it :D
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