contrast

Thoughts ticking through my sieve like dirty grains of sand.
Water rushing, gushing, flooding my heart, my head – although my soul runs dry.
I trip easily over each pebble that knocks about my head.
Your hands are not like mine.
Mine are rough and calloused from work I am yet to complete
Yours are soft and slide over my skin
but it is the sting I remember.
Smooth hands can sting far more than gentle worker’s tools.
I see the sails set out in front
the smooth white of the mainsail,
the crisp billowing blue of the spinnakker – it sets my course.
You stand behind, your smooth hands on firm hips, your feet held fast by tape.
Yellow waves of warmth flow by, green winds of jealousy to follow.
The sting, the smooth, the smell, the sand..
all now lie in the hessian purse by my side.

contrast

fillette

Joined December 2007

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Artist's Description

a leak in my brain – for a lover that opened my eyes

Artwork Comments

  • Siam Sam
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