Incomplete: Yesterdays and Tomorrow

Incomplete: Yesterdays and Tomorrow

Thick strokes of yellow and pink, blonde and blue,
slathered on a mind's canvas, framed forever.

Scurrying droplets of melting memories drip away,
carving scars in their wake that criss-cross in gnarled strands.

Stained hands scramble for strength,
seeking to sculpt a rising bridge, skirted with dawn-mists,
spanning dreams, hopes, realities, possibilities, and love.

Weak hands scoop up a sunset, painstakingly placing it,
cherry-perfect,
on the now crisp and blue horizon.
The same hands lie still, now burned and exhausted.
Sacrificed. Changed.

He paints the past, offers dreams wrought from a pure heart's
bloodletting,
waiting for a future as uncertain as her.

Exploring futility, spelunking tragedy, nurturing a shrinking
hope,
the cracks in his soul are thin and blue, summer thunderbolts, widening
each second.

His hands tremble to life, but not to fix those smoking fissures
or dress the raw wounds left by claws of love.

He instead reaches for hope, remains incomplete, and paints.
Forever. For her.