Painting As Camera
The canvas is so much like a seashore
Where hands comb for a body to the storm
Sometimes a continental piece will shift
These wounds under the palette —
Give her light while looking through the bars
From some more than thousand marks
The brush of close kissing hair by
The stroke of your blue in brown eyes
Stay familiar this very last year
With painted on tears —
The paints dispensed in the water pass
God, forgive the glass.
A tide that leaves colors to our flashback's wind —
My true colors are yours to see within
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