These Words Are Colors

These words are colors
And strokes
And textures
Placed upon
A canvas of time
Of expectations
As well as private
A tapestry
Held together tightly
By our common thoughts
And dreams

I often wonder
What you think of me
Whether you see me
As I might see myself
Or as I could never imagine

I am thinking of you
And always
As I try
To form a vision
That we can share
If only in this moment
A memory
And perceived
Across time

19 thoughts on “These Words Are Colors

    1. Yes, it is a challenging thought, especially given that, at least in my own experience, we have such unclear and often dynamic perceptions of ourselves. I feel that each different way in which we are perceived is valid in it’s own way, shaping us just the same as they describe what is already there.

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  1. Beautiful poem my friend, indead there is words in the painting that bind us all together throw time it’s self, others never see us as we see are selves because they don’t see what we cary around inside that squeeze are Persephone of are selves, the vision had been preseved in your words that will stand the test of time. ❤️✌️


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