Leap off the canvas, will you? Come to me.
Embrace me as you would a jealous lover.
Protest, claim that you're innocent, and free,
that there is nothing, nothing to discover,
and I'll believe you, old fool that I am.
I long for but a moment in your glory,
and persevere, all consequence be damned,
to be more than a footnote in this story.
Your heartless stare, slight curling of the lip,
so captured in your drawing room, idyllic.
A grail I dare not touch, no, dare not sip.
Defeated, conquered. Tempera and acrylic.
If only I could draw you as my own.
The paint is drying, and I'm all alone.
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