I am in love with a woman.

I see her in the canvases as they reveal worlds to me of saturated sunsets and brilliant, vivacious skies. The brightest cadmium, the lightest cerulean, the deepest indigo- none of them do her justice as they bleed from the ends of my bristles to the surface of my two dimensional plane, but I am trying, forever trying.

I feel her in the heat of the fire as I form molten glass into crystal, diamond-like flowers. The prismatic rainbows that scatter across my lids speak her name in pink, blue, and yellow. These fragile blossoms are but a mere echo of her beauty, such beauty, so much beauty.

I hear her voice in the songs in my ear because these are her songs and that is her voice and she is a siren and a goddess, a singer and a muse. She is the lightning bolt of inspiration that keeps these trembling hands busy, and the devil will never have them, for these idle fingers are a slave to her and only her and always her.

I am in love with a woman whom I never have met.

I am in love with her words and her voice and her sweetly sung soul, her lyrics of loss and her melodies of madness.

I am in love, I am in love, I am in love.



36 thoughts on “Lyrical

  1. Thanks for stopping by my blog that gives me opportunity to visit your wonderful writings.This is fabulous song of love that one can recite on and let me search this girl tooπŸ˜œπŸ‘πŸ‘ŒπŸ™πŸ’™

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Strong words, they pull you in… Do you create that way? Through paint, glass and song? If yes, then damn… I think I’m jealous!


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