The Art Of Love

I knew you, with your heart so blue,
Declined to God’s bouquet of gardenias,
But you’d out-live this hardship
Because He’d strung out the words
Permanent ink dried much faster
Than the broken lead pencil of the heart
Smeared and smudged everywhere
Almost erased into nothing
By a picture never completed
Embossed over true artistic quality
A heart trampled flat
Stung more painfully
Under the boots of a Lover
Melted on the ground
The heart didn’t live true
In puddles spilt all over the place
Overwhelmed with pain, in desperation for freedom
Those bottom levels revealed the palette
The Art of Love
Laid right before you
Wherever the heart goes,
The words must be said
You’d always keep going
As you gave the pain down below
Some breathing room
To develop some depth and color
On your canvas of Life’s opportunities

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