there was a silence

his words (or lack thereof)


like an unresolved chord


so minor

yet so major

observe her like a piece of art
treat her like a piece of history

you're my empty canvas

i will paint my love , all over you

with all the reds

and all the blues

go to art galleries with her when she asks
even if you don't understand the art
let her explain what she sees

let her sketch you while you're making her tea
having a bath
watching the television

let her paint on your back
let her paint on the walls

and most importantly ; let her give you all the love she has

its squeaky floorboards
its broken glass
its over grown trees
and over grown grass

i can't take care of this home
let alone myself