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.
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