Drip, Drip, Drip,
My eyes focused onto a Goddess flying away,
being absorbed by the wooden floor,
which was relishing my defeat
of losing what's mine.

My vision go white before I felt the making of my masterpiece pierce through me.

She was an exhibition in a famous art gallery,
Whose beauty remained unseen by stoic eyes,
Till they met the devotion swimming in my orbs,
Too bad, but too sweet.

I was an artist and she was a white canvas,
where I could show my creativity by
extracting precious colours from my own heart,
that looked so breathtaking
on the porcelain skin of her thighs.

Drip, Drip, Drip,

The brush showed urgency to paint her yellow;
How much I loved those serene dimples,
And her crinkling eyes where
I could find stars and planets
Being covered through a blanket of smoke.

Drip, Drip, Drip,

The blue paint smothered her with an enigma,
So pure, so enticing.
Showing the world the depth of the oceans,
where I swum and found pearls beneath.

Drip, Drip, Drip,

Hesitations but too deep into temptations,
I sprayed her with the colour Red,
from her soft cheeks to
getting smudged onto those silk sheets.

Oh, how the colour brought you alive-
that made you draw galaxies on my back with your nails,
And how the lips I painted Red,
Stretched to calmness when the sunlight tore the curtains.

With the colours I painted you,
You became A Masterpiece,

The bestselling art;

that now didn't only have the colours squeezed out of my heart,
but colours squeezed out from my eyes, my throat, my body, my soul.

How my own paints
Would create an illusion,
Making me chant your name into your collarbone,
Making you a Goddess.

Drip, Drip, Drip,
Now I can't see anything but white,
Looks the same as how I first met you.

But now you're gone,
And with you my blood, my sweat, my tears and my soul- all gone.

After all,
I was an artist and she was a white canvas,
Where I poured the last bits of myself,
To make her mine,
Now a trophy in someone else's bedroom.