Sketches of what could have been

Is such a vision too vast for colours to contain, Too abstract for paint, too vivid to explain? Colliding drafts between letting go or holding on. Blank slates streaked in doubt, yet the thought of you, the sole axon. A canvas blending your form and etching permanence within my heart, Yet I'm left to wonder whether I even exist within the mere frame of your art. In a painting where you are clearly the epitome of design, Can the same be said for yours, and would our paths ever realign?

A painting riddled with countless words unsaid, And a separation testing the very bounds of my eternal dread. Whether fate reunites us or forsakes me to naught, To deny my heart and be with another would leave me utterly distraught.

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