I certainly hope this doesn't seem too self involved to everyone, and if it does..well..BACK OFF!  

Ps for now..This was meant to be with what was going to be my new passions picture.  It seems I had some difficulty uploading it that I didn't realize. anyways..enjoy the poem. lol..
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I am standing here
open for your gaze
looking down at past moments
and wondering where all went so terribly wrong.
Was I too much passion for you to care for
or was I ever so sheltered
weak and yet unabiding in your arms that seemed to dangle cynicism in front of me
like a charm of curiously inviting darkness?

I am standing here
gazing in awe
at the sheer fabric of love
tattered
drained of color
and waiting for someone else with a zest for art
to dye my grey sky life
with the dyes
of luxury and love.

I am standing here
seeing myself as a girl again
yet bold in the honesty
that was always my way
when sadness struck its blow across my face.

The true color of the fabric is blue
midnight running through auburn hair.
I am standing against a stark white wall,
the only true color in a room empty of smiles.
The true color of my eyes is passion with flecks of honest love
and an indulgent glint of mischief.

How many pictures of me must I take
before finding the perfect one?
What artist could mix perfections?
A poet
a writer
(is there a difference?)
a painter
a sculptor?
And if we find the perfect picture,
dare we paint it
lest it become boring and still
left to weather the passing of time
and be allowed to stagnate in some forgotten hallway
in some neglected room?
No!
I think that I would have many pictures
rather than find one
irreplacable
lest it be allowed to fade forever
its torn edges rolling weakly beneath the weight of time.
I would have many pictures, indeed
to commemorate every part of myself I dare
so I do not forget what I have to give
and so I do not forget to give all that I have.

[This message has been edited by Temptress (07-16-2002 12:26 AM).]

quote:

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A poet
a writer
(is there a difference?)

---

To the world, you may only be one person. But to one person, you may be the world.

Enjoy life, this is NOT a dress rehearsal.

{on the wings of words are spirits fly...and our souls are free~me}