a stroke here

a smudge there

splashes of color 

that fade to gray

lively lilting--

legible

worn and wilting--

tangible

this Monet that is 

you and i

from afar we make sense 

up close we are a mess,

a Michelangelo gone mad,

a tarnished Sistine ceiling

where beauty peeks through

and through each moment spent with you

i am forever confused--

forever falling

flailing

fawning 

fearing over the fact

that you may not fully be mine

I find this composition

to be concerning,

this painting 

to be painful,

yet wonderful at the same time

I cannot complete what is not finished.

I cannot see what is not in focus.