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Portraiture
How many identities filled up the wall before you now?
As many as there were faces
Leeching on to a fragment of your existence
And demanding you as their representative in the 3D world
They peered, and yet avoided eye contact
The velvet of their skin looked coarse and scribbled over
As their wrinkles flaunted their age-old legacy
That was threading your life together now
Alas, how many faces?
Staring, you lost the ability to count and yet
You knew in total there was one
That many versions of yourself copied and pasted as time flew
Reflecting the echo of youth that the portraits stole years ago
They unravelled you and brought hence
Graphite string
Wounding on into eternity
Was at the end of it your future?
Or your beginning, marked in pencil
As the artist's signature
Comments
Rosewood Apothecary
Thu, 2023-01-05 05:21
Excellent
I would bet this means something different to you. I’ve drawn my own meanings from it. Projections of my experience of course. That aspect that is literal is astounding. I see the lines on the page and hear the pencil scribing. I also sense a current of metaphor concerning personality traits. I truly believe almost everyone has either been arrested or a bit splintered by some traumatic experiences. Again this is my personal experience and not indicative of yours. It’s just how the poem made me feel. It is well written.
Tim
Lavender
Fri, 2023-01-06 19:40
Portraiture
This feels like a person studying themselves through time, the many faces they wore as they struggled and evolved. Intriguing final line. I look forward to hearing more about it and your responses with this!
L