I want nothing more
Than to capture the beauty
Of your eyes
On my canvas;
But one problem does arise:
Paint could never capture colors
To immitate the beauty -
It would be but travesty
To say I could.
But your eyes, they burn
In my mind, but it's fine
Because the memory inside
And the look in your eyes
Brings me back to you,
And you love me there,
And everything's great.
But something in me screams
And tells I must release
The beauty of those eyes
On my canvas.
Please, give my pallette
That which awes me
And mesmerizes me
So that I may sleep tonight.
 
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