Did Pencils Ever Write, Did Brushes Ever Paint Poem by Eila Mahima Jaipaul

did you see the colors of my love
it's red, you know.
I spread it with my tongue
tasting its metallic taste
feeling where it comes from.
where it's warm inside

did you feel
its presence my Love
where it's dark,
and my nature grows
from green spots, in fields
that smell of earth.

I came from that
to you.
to convene at a place of your choosing
between dreams,
before wake.

these words are those urges
mirrors of heat wanting to merge
to your point, speaking loudly.

I looked for you
where you said you'd be
to try one more time, to say...
to say, something.

but love was useless.
what was in my box, was not you.
it was a drying sediment
not the great gentle river
winding through and through
nuzzling the living chambers
holding the walls together.