3 of 428

Write now Article Tools

Elusive

I could almost draw you with my eyes closed,
Trace your silhouette through empty air.
I feel the shape of your skin
In everything I touch;
I am drawn to your lines
With every line I draw.

Yet tonight I sit to draw
And my creative lines are closed;
Invisible lines,
Lost in midnight air
And no pencil that I touch
Can break through my tough skin.

How thin is your skin
Not to let me draw?
It evaporates at the touch
Of my pencil; all is closed.
I pray to tense, charged air
To help me find your lines.

For all you have are lines;
They're in every fleck of skin.
Yet they mingle with the air
And disappear as I draw.
How can I open this mind that is closed
And let it guide my touch?

What good is my touch
If it can't reproduce your lines?
What good is talent disclosed
When it can't capture your skin?
I must sit here till I draw
What I see plain in the surrounding air.

I need to take you from the air
And make you vulnerable to my touch,
So when I start to draw
And try to soften your tough lines,
I can shape your hardened skin
Instead of cursing what is closed.

If you're closed to my touch
You'll leave me grasping through air for lines,
And I'll find some other skin that's easier to draw.

Learn more about this author, KJM.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

Add your voice

Know something about Poetry: Longing?
We want to hear your view. Write now!