So a thousand blind eyes
staring blankly into an abyss
while shifting uncomfortably in their seats
as they watch in awe.
Pure envy marks the translucent pupils
of those ignorant souls.
Anguish settles in the veins
flowing to a tributary of dismay.
Nothing but simple souls dreaming
as if time elapsed could recreate
a portrait of abstract color and beauty
to the eyes of one with absence of sight.
The sorrowful cries of incompetent minds
pray at night for a portrait to call their own
while they lack a true understanding
of the artist himself.
And here I am, the Mona Lisa
so simple, so plain.
And with you, my Da Vinci
to create a masterpiece
out of a lifeless figure
that nobody else would have ever seen.
And you know every brush of every stroke
and every inch, head to toe.
The way those lips curve so gently
so deceiving, tempt you to
lean in and caress those lips with yours.
So striking, those gaping eyes
staring with sheer magnificence
on such a plain looking girl
like a small grey bud
in a garden of yellow blossoms.
An artist like you, so smart so keen
to be the the first to pick the simple bud
that such opaque eyes had never seen,
creates a masterpiece
that the blind will never be.

A painting for the blind
that they will never seem to find.
Never touch, never feel, never breathe
the same air that we breathe together
And they'll keep dreaming
for a portrait to call their own...