The Painter

This time she painted the picture well

It intentiaonally sits there

Every stroke is strong

Left with traces that you cannot mistake

Everyone can see it

Going deeper in detail

As if the picture isn't clear enough

Explained as an illusion

Labeling it to be not an abstract

Stunted in confusion

Or are they looking at it all wrong

She gave it color mixed with embellishments

How could she create what she wanted to see

Then let the public decide

While retaining the true meaning

The benefits drag her into a mocking smile

Looking at me with full contentment

Yet signalling me with her eyes

Pleading that I won't reveal her arts true meaning

Because the illustrated illusion

Will be the only pleasure that's left

I can only sit back and watch...

Hoping it unveils on its own

Her intentional lies mocks me

She strongly walks to the front

Explains her piece

I can only sit back and wait...

Scan the room

All eyes open

But not one is awake

Her eyes slash past mine in a devilish grin

I can only sit back and I stare...

The truth is all I have

In this picture you see a light

The truth is all I see

You never loved her

Because the painting is of you and me