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I can hear your laugh as we would have turned our paintings around
Yours would be a mockery made by sloppy hands and instability
I would take mine too seriously so that you would know that you are seen
A gentle intensity in an act of light-hearted intimacy
You'd paint a truer picture of me than I ever could
Yours is truth
But a photograph couldn't show the you underneath
Laughter doesn't harbor reality and your distance brings clarity.
I want to paint you, but I don't want anyone to see
i want to sit inside and watch the snow
Fallen
Collective
getting lost & being found
the World isn’t ending
it is beginning
every single day
New
not one is ever the same