The Painter

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


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


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