The Art Teacher

A head hangs lifeless in its stillness,
in demure, shame or misery,
your lover's face,
smudged with pencil lead, black like tar,
like a star in the midnight sky,
alone and forgotten. Engulfed with fire,
with the warmth of affection,
remembered because of its light of love,
reaching everywhere like wild grass growing
between the cracks on concrete walls,
like cracks in this sky,
drooping, as if the day was lazy.
Spent long summers together.
For these empty spaces disappear
till nothing but enchanting forests remain
and bird songs ring out from your heart.
I keep learning of your mysterious ways,
naked and afraid.
One throne remains and the rest has vanished
of this temporary body of art,
everything but two eyes, naked
and capable only of beholding this illusion.
Take your crown, your art of love is pure deceit.
Take this hand and trace what two eyes dare not see,
for fear is king.
Your emotions have suffered while I
replicate lies into art,
annihilate your existence
to gain the fruits of your labor, life that you lived,
but only love was your punishment
and all good has now perished,
all unrequited thus.
This view remains. An illusion
has taught you blindness.
What strange thoughts may color such blind dreams?
Those eyes then turn away,
shunning your art to say
it is unworthy,
kissing lips tear apart,
this piece of art tears away,
this immortal dream spun with symbols tears away.
Behold your truth, behold yourself
to mirrors stranded in wildernesses
like lost souls, like trees appearing in the clearing away
of the dense fog of the forest.