The Composite Rouge

Unneeded to elucidate; her composite strokes
painted in excellent composite rouge –
every picture has connotation; shrewdly pioneered
A twist of gist speaking volume in the rear.

I exchange a few dialogues with them; at times…
Most audible dimensions appear.

“She is fond of canvassing insects”.

I am fond of admiration
Apart from what subject
she chooses to give life to.

I cannot challenge self
knowing how consumed I am
in an undeniable envy;

Endlessly I fall helpless
In sheer awe of the wonders
she triggers within the narcissist side
of the color quenching artist inside me.

I can paint too !
But not as skillfully
as she would.

Covet and approbation stands equivalent; feral.
How can I appease?
She paints, she paints – oh so beautiful
I certainly cannot outwit her expertise.

Repeatedly and inventively
she dips me in the contentment of her mysticism.
I am at peace knowing what aspires her to craft –
generates countless paintings within my non existent being.

Covet and approbation stands unequaled;
absolute admiration takes the toll.


She paints, she paints – oh so beautiful,
I can never outwit her supreme expertise.
She paints, she paints “my love” oh so wonderful,
and I observe her paint so much more for me.

She paints, she paints – oh so beautiful,
I can never outwit her untamed expertise
Whatever imprisons me…
Sets her free!

Unneeded to elucidate; her composite strokes
painted in excellent composite rouge –
every picture has connotation; shrewdly pioneered,
A twist of gist cleverly engineered
speaking volume in the rear.

I exchange a few dialogues with them; at times…
Most audible dimensions appear.

She is fond of canvassing insects.

“Not so fond of the love she paints for her, in Me”.



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