Nothing Was Real

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modigliani

Jeanne Hébuterne (au chapeau) by Amedeo Modigliani.

I drank Modigliani that morning with my eyes, greedily
To the last drop of his brushes caught in the frame of my past
I was thinking of you …
Who chose aloofness and distance

And I,
didn’t want to dance to your tune any longer …
You know, I can live on a thin diet of Satie in the morning
Whilst drinking drops and touches of Modigliani’s tones in my cup of Blue Flower and
Thinking of a new story with mellower edges that I should write tomorrow morning, urgently

I don’t really need the past to be revised
Nothing was real when the ego crushed
and cried
and begged
and showed plain ugliness

Nothing was real anymore
I just sat there looking at the art with innocent eyes
With my innocent eyes …
I was looking at the art!

Nothing Was Real was last modified: June 26th, 2017 by Branka Cubrilo

One Response to "Nothing Was Real"

  1. Lidija  Saturday, July 1, 2017 at 11:16

    A beautiful, fluid string of emotions from a lady who knows the pains and pleasures of seeking artistic precision.

    Reply

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