I drew her face

I drew her a face

where invented beauty

washed over nerves and veins
and painted melancholy in her eyes
as if some memory survived
her fruitless dreaming

the past left behind
probable love cancelled
by chance or random change
passion gone to hoarfrost
in an overwhelming night

I laid a stripe of sorrow
a keloid of impasted white
or near-white raised
on her face and her silence

for whatever ghosts
walked the graveyards
of devotion to be

enfolded in the dark
flames turning to dust

being never enough

© BH, 2021

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Here’s another poem taken from a poem I read on social media.The original was a good example of Instagram poetry - short and illustrated. I wanted to try to dig deeper so I took elements of love-story, painting, sorrow and wove them into this as a response which I shared.

Later I popped it into the All Poetry website/forum as a first sharing and to see how the set-up worked.

So far, so good.