Nothing Was Real

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!

1 Comment
  1. Avatar of Lidija
    Lidija says

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

Leave A Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This website uses cookies to improve your experience. We'll assume you're ok with this, but you can opt-out if you wish. Accept

Angie's Diary