Paints

Great expectations we have

but I don't know how to put words in our story,

in the conversations while I look at you

or maybe I just want to look at you

without words

I am searching for the brushes again,

for the charcoal and paints and canvas

but I don't know how to paint you

would you be my benefactor?

clinching our destinies in the fist 

abiding by the rules of your coming from future -

hold my fingers

help me trace your veins

tilt the body and let me lambaste it 

with my lips -

help me paint again,

paint you, paint the moon

paint each strand of hair

a different color

of all the people in the world

I don't know what to do with myself

dismissing seconds and minutes and hours 

and time

in its whole

to the crater deep inside my mind

while I see your real pretty body

and your unadulterated movements

all around myself

but for now, help me paint again

maybe dip my hands into the paints

or hurl them all over me,

us

or kiss the cherries upon me

and take me to the world

where I just paint

at all the times of the life

our life, I preserve it 

The seagulls just behind our place

help not give away the love sounds

and I color myself all colors

to pluck your love in all motions

One day people come and

look at those paintings

maybe in my own show,

doubting and criticizing and

admiring and ignoring the meaning they seize

for themselves

You look at me and see

what I left in each of those paintings

and you and me,

we are not slave to words.