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Watercolor Love
my love for you
is as lonely as
graffiti under a bridge,
sprayed on,
yet left alone.
only a mark to show
that you’ve been here,
that you’ve claimed here.
many have attempted
to scrub it off,
as if a sponge and some water
can make it fade away.
everyone has seen this vision of love,
and though it’s sprayed on
with foul intentions,
it is still beautiful
under the bridge
where the creek of forgetting flows
through it’s arch.
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This poem was written during a time where I weirdly found graffiti to be extremely pretty. Of course, since my family lived in the city, they hated it since it often was a form of vandalism. However, I find it to be artistic, chaotic art, perfect insanity. That is what inspired this poem, graffitis under a bridge. It is beautiful in its dying moments, beautiful but no one sees it, beautiful but scorned, as if it is the bridge's fault for wearing such graffiti like a badge of honor.