In the depths of passion’s vibrant hue,
Where love ignites like a flame anew,
Vincent dared to open wide his heart,
Knowing well that suffering is love’s part.
Each brushstroke whispered soft confessions,
Yet beneath each color lay silent obsessions,
With each blossom that bloomed in the sun,
The weight of longing cast shadows undone.
The more he loved, the deeper the ache,
A canvas alive, yet a heart that would break,
For in every stroke of joy, pain intertwined,
A bittersweet dance that left him confined.
Stars swirling in a furious embrace,
Reflecting the turmoil he could not erase,
Intense was the fire that colored his soul,
Yet sorrow’s dark ink took a heavy toll.
He loved like the sun, brilliant and bold,
But knew that warmth could leave one cold,
Adored by the world, yet longing for more,
His heart was a gallery, forever unsure.
In the whispers of night and the cries of dawn,
He painted his torment, each brush kissed with lawn,
The fields of sunflowers, bright but forlorn,
Spoke of a beauty both dazzling and worn.
For love, when embraced, is a double-edged sword,
Bringing with it both joy and discord,
Yet in all his suffering, a truth shone through,
That the more you love, the more you break blue.
So here’s to the artist, with colors so deep,
Who loved and who suffered, who dreamed and who wept,
In every heartache, in each heavy sigh,
He found the essence of life—an exquisite goodbye.
Author’s Note:
After watching a movie (Van Gogh: Painted with Words) about Van Gogh, I had done an art piece for class of his famous starry night. My mind kept flowing while doing that piece and every time I would look at the reference, everything just came together.
MJ Birdsong | 13 | Georgia, USA
