UNREQUITED HUES

unrequited hues

by: estefaaano _writes

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A canvas I lie, 

For his art so fine.

My heart a blank space, 

For his colors to intertwine. 

I am but a muse, 

To his brush so light, 

In my heart, 

Burns a love so bright.

My heart a palette, 

His love the hue,

Though he paints indifference, 

Leaving me askew.

He paints with abandon, 

On me he bestows.

Of my own love, 

He's completely unaware. 

A stroke of blue, 

For the sea so deep, 

 But my love for him, 

He fails to perceive.

I'm the unwritten verse in his ballad, 

Invisible ink amid the strife.

My love, a melody, 

He fails to hear,

Lost in the echoes of his own frontier.

A dash of red, 

For the sun's fiery blaze, 

But my love for him, 

He fails to gauge. 

A touch of green, 

For the meadows wide, 

But my love for him, 

He fails to spy.

A canvas I am, 

For his masterpiece, 

Though my love for him, 

Finds no peace. 

I am but a backdrop, 

To his story so grand, 

Yet in my heart, 

I yearn for his hand.

A canvas I remain, 

For his art so divine, 

Though my love for him, 

Is left to pine. 

For I am but a muse, 

To his heart so cold.