The worst of it is the dark bottomless.
I cannot paint a portrait of us to hang over my mantel.
I don’t know what we looked like. I don’t have the skills.
Not one single picture exists… of us together.
I have one picture of you. Your eyes are closed. You are almost smiling.
I have this urge to piece together a collage of us.
Step back… see….around the shards…between the lines…behind the scenes.
To slow down the sleight of hand… to see how the bunny gets in the top hat.
We are mixed media.
We are found object.
We are abstract.
And perhaps….
If I could find meaning in the giant boob on your forehead…
If I could accept my lack of arms as reasonable or at least artful…
I might be able to sleep. I might be able to turn around and start climbing out.
I don't even know what to say, but I wanted you to know it's beautiful.
ReplyDeleteIt is.
ReplyDeleteIncredibly written, ironically I was looking through photos tonight from a recent relationship, and found myself wondering whether it is better to have no images at all, or positive images before a negative fallout. Still not sure, but either way I love your words
ReplyDeleteThere is always meaning in a giant boob....
ReplyDelete