Your Poetry Dot Com

Array ( [sid] => 136419 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Pretend. [time] => 2007-08-02 08:29:14 [hometext] => Lives change in this place, amongst paintings and sketches and hands that hope. [bodytext] => ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is the place she comes to be…
Amongst paintings and sketches is only sweet release, the feeling of control
over her paper world.
Reality blends into the background of her fantasies,
indistinguishable in cross hatching and pastels.
This is the place she comes to pretend.

She draws pictures of Amedeo, the one that she’s waiting to meet –
she’s sketching her own heartbreak with dull pencils and hands that hope.

Simple and elegant and maybe not extraordinary,
but she knows every shade of gray with only one pencil.
She knows how to make them beautiful.

Lives change in this place, amongst canvas and oil,
people learn to acknowledge their beauty and their faults,
when they look themselves in the eyes and see what she sees.
But they never leave, stuck in the confines of a two dimensional portrait.
They never want to.
[comments] => 3 [counter] => 252 [topic] => 73 [informant] => Keilantra [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Pretend.

Pretend.
Date: Thursday, 2nd August 2007 @ 08:29:14 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: Keilantra

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is the place she comes to be…
Amongst paintings and sketches is only sweet release, the feeling of control
over her paper world.
Reality blends into the background of her fantasies,
indistinguishable in cross hatching and pastels.
This is the place she comes to pretend.

She draws pictures of Amedeo, the one that she’s waiting to meet –
she’s sketching her own heartbreak with dull pencils and hands that hope.

Simple and elegant and maybe not extraordinary,
but she knows every shade of gray with only one pencil.
She knows how to make them beautiful.

Lives change in this place, amongst canvas and oil,
people learn to acknowledge their beauty and their faults,
when they look themselves in the eyes and see what she sees.
But they never leave, stuck in the confines of a two dimensional portrait.
They never want to.

This poem is Copyright ยฉ Keilantra

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