[Corneac]

On my days off
noon passes without lunch,
and I fall in love with painters,
skin like canvas,
fingertips like fine horse hair brushes,
and touch that stains-
you can feel rust in your movements
the familiarity of love,

bohemians rush to cafes
and dream of cigarettes,
and buskers strum endlessly
plucks that never ends,

and I pluck hours from your company
that pass, like falling notes,
settle on our bodies,
sweetness, that echoes, echoes,

seconds come, nothing done,
and life doesn’t seem to mind,
like a constant song
of instrumentalism,
We play, on and on.

[Vince]

Nice piece chris. Beuatifu lpainted images, and I love the fact that, imo, it alternates between being a narrative and having a neoromantic tone. It also reminded me Lou Reed's "Perfect Day". Again nicely done.

[Rain]

Hey Chris, I remember in another piece you ended with a comma as well, and I wrote a giant description of why I liked it, it felt as if it wasn't over,like the poem was to be continued, you hadn't spoken your full mind yet, and I enjoyed that. With this, it doesn't quite work for me, it seemed like that last line was a good finish, and the comma brings a sense uncertainty. Other then that, it was classic Chris, with your poetic speech and your beautiful words... nice one.

[Corneac]

Thanks. I have to stop ending my poems in a comma, it's a habit? I tend to do it with msot of them, by accident. Thanks so much for your comments guys. Really appreciate it!

Fixed Rain!