Member-only story
In limbic spaces
You caught my eye.
Tell me now, what am I supposed to do?
Now, my heart is feeling blue, and it is all because of you.
A serendipitous find, now beauty is mine to steal.
I paint a picture — watercolours. The hues are thinly defined — almost a veneer painted over a canvas. The textures, of which, I can see behind the thin wash.
Tell me, is it a superfluous find?
The brushes of colour wash over me.
I create a holy scripture — for words I cannot find.
The feeling is sublime.
In your aura, I am reeling.
The emotions are fleeting.
They manifest ephemeral joys.
I am catching wishes out of an air that is rarefied.
For there are no words from those whose voices are seldom heard.
I seek to capture beauty.
Yours is mine, your heart to steal.
Existing in the humdrum,
my heart is sunk.
Tell me, what am I supposed to do
Existing in limbic spaces
I feel the mellow blue
my heart is chased
I am chasing butterflies in summer skies.