Dream

I had a dream again, I saw a girl, but with my face, And she was blessed with the Midas touch, where every moment she touched turned to radiant grace, Her presence gilded shadows illuminating the night, And every breath she took, minted beauty, like coins stamped with delight, But tears fell, acidic like rain, corroding the gold, Tarnishing the treasure, and leaving scars to unfold, So she sat down and painted, The gentle stroke of her brush caressed her canvas, like a lover's touch, Crafting masterpieces from the shadows that lingered and the light that seemed to have passed her by, A perfection sculpted from pains exquisite design, And when she looked up in the night sky, The stars disappeared, and formed a constellation in her tears-filled eyes, Spilling secrets and blending with the colours, I watched her canvas drink the hues of her fractured heart, dissolving like watercolors and birthing a beautiful art, With one swift stroke, she shattered the peace, breaking her brush into two, Then she poured ink from her pallet all over the canvas, and set the canvas ablaze, The acrid smell of burning linens mirroring her anguish, She cradled the flames, letting them consume her art completely, and didn't flinch when it burned her hand, Instead smiled and watched as the wind carried the ashes away, Her face embedding the very serenity of the night.