Charcoal on Canvas

Sketches of stories etched in my mind.
Itching to look for what I never find.
Halogen lamp on a naked, stark
lonely face hiding in dark.

Paintbrush in hand, smile wearing thin.
Lips without red, Skin looking dead,
Words left unsaid, Bed left sheveled.

Sand is pouring through the ceiling,
Sealing this tomb like hades’ womb.
Somber I take foot, in slumber it stays,
Sickened by soot.