S
|
miled again, rather
Grimaces in pain
The spotlight never her thing.
Millions of eyes, ears,
mouths and hands
Dissecting the enigma
On the canvas.
If portraits could
Speak their minds
As do in Hogwarts...
My face would
Mesmerise no longer.
The long hours,
Aching limbs,
Stretched endurance
Worth the while.
Few stolen moments ,
A valid excuse,
Bought at heavy price
Of heartache and heart break.
Throw a curve ball
That proclaimed
The furrowed brows,
Pigment stained fingers
Dipping onto the palette
Belonged to the one
My secret love.
The man belonging
with the world but
never with any one.
