By K. M. Kaisarul Islam

The painting depicted exactly what I saw that night
The moon never looked fuller
and the waves of the sea were in perfect harmony
Each detail in perfect order

The colors were of the perfect consistency
they never struggled and always made sense
The brush strokes were visible barely,
but the colors failed to mimic the haze of my senses

The painting was perfect
But you and I are not
neither is my beloved
Her moon is often blocked by the clouds,
her waves have a broken melody
the brush misses some of its bristles,
each stroke uncovering a beautiful inconsistency

The painting is perfect
But it cries for the touch of your hand
I’ve put in the request,
The final Prompt to give it life
Now– the painting is perfect
But absent of what I felt that night.