The Artist

The Artist awoke from a fitful night
She would haunt him in his sleep
He would dream of her beauty, perfection
And when his eyes would open he would weep

It had become like this every night
A constant struggle between the dream and reality
In his dreams she would never leave
But it was all part of the fictitious fairy tale story

He would open his eyes
But the dream would not leave
He could feel her on his lips
Just real enough to almost believe

The Artist would lie there in silence
His mind churning restlessly
Like his hand upon a blank canvas
The dream provided an alternate reality

He would close his eyes
And there again he could see her face
Striking green eyes with flecks of brown
No pigment of color out of place

His mind would then slip back into his subconscious
And again they would be together
But reality knew what his dream didn’t
She wasn’t coming back, ever.

The Artist began to lose himself in the dream
Wondering if there was any other way
In his dreams, his mind would paint the picture
And in that picture she would always stay

He tumbled once again into the depths of his mind
Allowing himself to forget she was gone
He would paint their alternate reality together
Until she left the next morning at dawn