Forlorn

Her eyes glared with agony, flared by revenge,

Within the perfect world, a perfect bondage.

Her lips were vivid to whisper an unsung dosage,

Sunken beneath the guilt of pounds of weightage,

Her lost allure of the once celebrated visage,

Blurred among the cruelty of fate's hostage.

Her tresses flow in its heavenly mirage,

Boaring the strength to tear open the canvas cage.

Strokes of my brushes paved her image,

But not her passage.

"Embrace me with realism, pour me with life" was her message;

"I am just an artist, not a deity", said I, glancing the painting of her, in frame vintage.