leaving in me dreams of a painter...

Felt so many times to you leave a touch
But you shrunk shy my touch me not such
That I restrained...from drawing calligraphic write
On you...I didn't create pencil shades of dark and light...

I didn't embellish you grand
For felt you couldn't that withstand
I didn't pour my all engrossed self
For felt that was too deep for you to delve...

I didn't dip my paintbrush into pots
Colors stayed within me like solidified dots...
I shied away... for painting you would mean
Committing that unpardonable historic sin...

But then you are sometimes so condescending
Coming to me with rules bending
To accommodate me with such an impulse
Rubbishing my conflicts as cowardly acts false...

That I again feel to leave you with a touch
But  you shrinking again such...
That my desire remains forever unfulfilled
That slowly my coloring thrust I do kill...

This loopy loop, I think, would keep me awake
Several centuries... of being  unpoetically on check
Yet you would cause me with newer wish
You leave in me dreams of being a painter without leash...













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