The Painter

infinite stretch
I reach
 rub green through   Nature
trees on my
    fingertips
    color of our lungs
on rainy afternoons
    a lush world
blooms slow
like a    Lotus
     half-open
I wait
     planet of mud
 hands     outstretched
      to the blue
it pours
               leaves
are greener
     lost nights
I write
     places with
pumpkin purple
     horizons
and
  blood orange
      suns
      smeared ink
I erase
  blood blue
        stains
  on      page
        when the pen
     breaks
   I bleed     out

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The Pull

never used the room we had
    to grow sunflowers
instead, it rained
    drenching your curls

flattening my face

green filled the space
     but yellow never surfaced
lost in tall grass, i cried
     you rode the leaves into sky

i waited, below

winter came, all was barren
     your breath chilled my bones
i sucked in your air
     like when you vacuumed

like a madman

yet crumbs, hair, lint, and dirt

     remained

i lay on black carpet
     with a blue heart
you stare with black eyes
     whirlwind of dust drags me
all the way back to you