Turpentine Breath

I woke up to turpentine breath in the air brushes vermilion and cobalt blue rinsed out from the art they transferred for you. I snuck to the palette left unattended and couldn’t help touch the drying oils forming skins until I got to them fingers stained burnt sienna. These were just residues of last night's greatness. The portrait of twins from Siam on the table alive on the easel as clear and as real as the brush strokes you made with your hand. You blew with the breath of a genius deliberate and slept on our living-room couch 'till they faded those flashes of novels and orchestral pieces run like the blood through your heart. The hours I stood at your hip while you painted canvas alive with the newest creation eyes heavy, stealing the sleep I was needing and then sweet bed, sweet bed... I woke up to turpentine breath in the air brushes stand clean at attention and wait for the moment the artist in you decided it was time to breathe life and to paint, and to paint...