Still Life Imperfect

Bitten fruit in still life oils shined by light internal shows there is no sweet perfection immortalized eternal Portraits crunched, pureed and such by hands dissolved, ungifted wipe the paint from canvas skin until the stains are lifted Soak the sky with thoughts of art Speak like a simpleton speaks Scour the ground for a speck of emotion to hoard in your hollows for weeks Reconcile to read a book Bury your heart in it's sleeve At the moment you feel like a still life imperfect you humbly ask and receive...