A New York Art Exhibition

10513703_1511914115711183_1617501975_n.edu

“Stunning! Brilliant rendition of light.”
How could they not be aware,
that it is nothing but a tribute
to the the sun shining through our bedroom window,
kissing the golden flecks in my hair.

“Masterful technique.”
Each composition evokes a memory.
Sunday afternoons lying naked on your studio floor.
Loving with unquenchable thirst.
Your fingers embellishing the forbidden canvas of my body.

“Exquisite! Such an eye for detail!”
Every brush stroke is a familiar caress-
the delicate sweep of your fingers along my throat.
The wet softness of your tongue at the nape of my neck.
The brush of your lips at the swell of my breast.

“A vibrant contrast of colours!”
Your thumb tracing my spine- violet:
for the passion only I could awake.
Crimson along the curve of my growing stomach.
Pink just for her- beloved Juliette.

“Excellent symmetry.”
You loved her perfectly. Like she was your own.
Revered her growing life like a treasure
you had spent your whole life searching for.
…Not the fruit of the betrayal I had sewn.

“Such fine texturing!”
The gentleness of your palms over the bulge
of my taut stomach. Icy Fear.
The warmth of your voice. Strength of your arms.
Panic. Pain I could not bear to divulge.

“Such incredible ability to create depth.”
My own body executing punishment-
The price of a sin of the skin
is destruction of the yield of said flesh
& a period of interminable bereavement.

“Dramatic rendition of shadows.”
They remind me of the sudden emptiness
of my poisoned womb.
Of the unbearable absence of the flutter of tiny feet.
Of Silence. Eternal Darkness.

“A meticulously stylized, thought provoking piece.”
Blotted, tear stained ink. Nervous scribbling:
“How strong is your love?
Strong enough to forgive-
Everything?”

Among the critics and fans, I am here.
The one person you never needed to impress.
I take in each piece and relive the stories
of Love. Pain. Life. Death….Death…
& how it all started with you, in that same Red dress.

Whispers of my soul have been intricately weaved,
within the threads of each tapestry.
Will they ever know, my darling,
That each piece is the language of our love,
a declaration that your heart continues to yearn for me.

Amanie
August 10th, 2015

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