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