summer paintings

They claim beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
If only you found this to be true.

I display to you my truths;
reason upon reason,
season after season,
and you undoubtedly dispute.

They say we must see eye to eye, two individuals in understanding.
Yet at times it feels as if one of us is flying,
while the other is just landing.

They plead, “love another and each of their flaws.”
A voiceless call.
I’ve searched all through your tears, and found none at all.

They reconcile with metaphors in an attempt to relate with me,
Most of which I believe,
just not in spring.

And as these changes prep the summer air, the heat of our togetherness cannot be ignored.
But even in our most peaceful of bliss, i knew you’d been prepping for a storm.

Your love steeps my veins;
the world I know fades.
Frozen in place, I stay frozen and pained.
The cold overturns me, and your warmth proves rewarding.

Temporary satisfaction, moments in which I feel free.

My mornings are foggy.
How strange it seems,
to try and change the color of the sky.

How strange it seems.
Eventually the leaves pile high, and the tops of my shoulders fall flat.
I sink into the rays of autumn,
to rake away the remnants of the days before.

Yet still, I only recall the shine of the wooden floor,
and the disrupted pane that would shrill as you come near.
I forget how often that plank would screech, and my love would morph to fear.

You send my life into hibernation,
alive in restless thought.
Often till the seasons change,
to discover why you make me feel this way.

I find no consolation.
I graze above the clouds, to sail closer to the sun.
still grateful for when the seasons come and go, I wait for this one to be done.

With time comes alteration,
a personal work of art.
I hope the summer warmth comes back though, to melt your frozen heart.

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