What creeps in these corridors
Within these purple solemn hours?
I sadly awaken to lilacs with no heads,
And, with all the life I have given you
I am left with the remnants of thorn and green...
I do not oppose to such colors;
I only just long for the deepest hues.

For you see?
The fickle of light has betrayed me,
It adores the the stolen flower of your scent
And, nighttime shadow finds you more abstract;
My poem in motion, my love, my painting,
You in your masses,
I ask, can you see to it that my brush is never broken?
That I am the only one who can trace your purfumed lines?

I do hunger your colors,
That of death, that of life,
The drought, the blue, gray, purple, wood and steel
You are the most magnificent in plain sight...
My astrocyte; my malignant fleshly star,
Metaphorically speaking you are my lovely contradiction.

So it is you that creeps within these corridors
Within these solemn purple hours;
My painting, my love...
How you color my sad sky with rich hues
My astrocyte, my malignant mass of lilacs...
That of my death that of my life.

Mimi Mata

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/malignant-mass-of-lilacs-by-mimi-mata-meyer/