FranKophone

I thought they were perfect. Strokes of happiness. Tales of love forever. But I was wrong…. They were half-done When the brush slipped. Never to be picked up again. My artist was gone… I never knew, where. I wish I weren’t An unfinished painting , A toy in the hands of a mortal….

He paints me. I’m a fantasy – a chimera, yet he paints me. He believes I’m an angel. Pure. Untouched. Gentle. Unrealistically fabulous. He has not known me. Just felt me. I’m his muse. The diva. The gift of his life. What he does not know is I’m a deception. I can kill but not create.  I’m a mirage. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ **Its Thousif's  birthday today. Wishes for him !!