My Hands Are Tied Poem by john tiong chunghoo

my hands are tied

i paint with fingers
safely stored in
my heart chambers
and an ever ready canvas
at the back of my mind
to dribble you down
into surreal, realist,
impressionistic and
modernist lines

there are so many
parts of you that inspire

your soft lips are
a tube of pastel pink
it dissolves and
runs through my body
an engaging spasmodic
touch and shade

your eyes are apples
gleaming dew on grass
glittering diamonds

your round shapely fingers
to put magic into them
is to work the bristles
the way lips would run through them

your ears are celestial drums
reverberating through
a landscape of creation
that revels in a world of art

your gait is a realist's fetish
it works step by step
inch by inch
a savoir faire
my heart pines to pour
into everybody's cup of tea

such blurry fiery
simmering
dreamlike night
who would i paint but you?

the fireworks bursts in
blue, pink and green
over an ocean of
longings and fantasies

stroke and stroke of red
trail thick and thin
over an insurmountable field
that eventually spirals
and spills into an
impressionistic ecstacy

i die to commit them all
onto a masterpiece
for a lifetime of memory
of youth trailblazing at its prime