🌇💜the magenta in the sunset deepen'd / 🍋🥤⛅the pink lemonade colored clouds drift'd o'er the sky / 🌴🌊🌃like islands in an ethereal ocean o'erhead / ✨oh, the splendor!

my lov'ly sky, shall i compare thee at this splendid moment to phantasmagoric canvases sway'ng in pristine museum halls?

🏡🎨 her old studio lay in the attic / 🕷🕸 a location of elegance that spiders scurried away from / 🖌🖼👩‍🎨tubes of paint and masterpiece danglin' from the slanted ceiling / 🍴👄💖the artwork languidly eating the space on the floor where she used to paint / 🛌👧now she paints in her bedroom

thou artists art masters where'er thou art.

⭐🏹the paintings line up into garish constellations in the attic / 🌧🏰🌆of celestial fortresses enclos'd in serein / 🌙⛵of moonlit rendezvous o'er venetian lagoons / 📆💛🌻 of 31 sunsets paint'd solicitously into the squares of a calendar month / 💔💀🧠 of lacerated hearts and weathered skeletons / 💦🥀 of roses in the rain neglected on the moribund sidewalk / 🧚‍♀️👼🏯of profuse fairytale oases among floating cloud castles

o of the grand'st displays of talent, all within the walls of a dreary attic.

📜 she punctiliously unrolled her canvas / 💫🧙‍♀️and in that nanosec'nd a portal open'd up in the floor / 📝🌊 an ocean of evanescent dye n' unobstrustive pencil marks / 🎡✨the outline of pastel waterpaint and graphite displaying the dimensions of a ferris wheel / 🪔💡vintage lamp lights flicker'd in the background / 🖌she dipped the dainty brush into a pool of gold green dye / 💛🤎👁‍🗨the same shade as the boy's eyes / 💧💋🌈soaking the tip before allowing it to kiss the ferris wheel with a burst of color

'nd the bleed'ng sun held its breath as the world watch'd thee give birth to a masterpiece

🔆🌆 wi' the hindmost strands of sunlight tenderly strok'ng her pale cheeks / 🤍🌐her skin bleached from the burd'n of this merciless world / 🌈💨she disgorg'd the remaining color in her heart into these paragons of art / 😢🙍‍♀️so she could forget about the torments of the day / 🏡of the void that filled the empty house / 🚘of the empty driveway / 🚗🚞of her father's car miles away

a sweet n' timid maiden thou art, with the pale'st complexion and the liveli'st of minds

-[ 🌙🎨🌆 ]-

just wanted to remind you that this book is a story. it has a solid plot line where its parts and chapters connect to each other. i wanted to remind you because unlike novels this is written in poetry and poetic prose, and unlike most poetry collections it has a plotline. so remember that, and feel free to skip around the book and reading it just as a collection of misc poems, but it'd be a pleasure to me if you saw it more as a novel and read every part of it ;)

after this poem i literally got so tired of emojis istg-

AHHHHHH i sound like a friggin' idiot in this poem- but elision and renaissance speech are NOT easy- 😶🤚

well, fare thee well, i must away!