my fingers miss yours
my lips can still taste your skin
hungry and alone

I don't want a forever love
I want a love that keeps me up
makes my fingers and toes tingle
love that fills me from my lips
through my spine and into my heart
I want wild love from a gentle soul
who understands how to feed
my mind and my body with poetry
words whispered for me alone
through fingertips and tongues
a lover whose tenderness heals scars
whose kindness is contagious
and whose passion is inspirational

I exist in everyone's head or heart
a different person;
not everyone will have
the kindest image of me painted
some will meet me at a vulnerable time
paint me with wide brush strokes or
harsh dark lines that only seem impenetrable
to protect myself from decoloration

the details in a large painting matter less--
and I can't help but feel like maybe
we were too ambitious with art of this size
too many details added in too quickly
and the canvas is left mostly blank
did you know, love, that a complex canvas
woven of good, strong, fabric
holds more paint than a shallow gloss?

spend a minute looking at my angles
the shadows you've drawn across my face
is this how you've chosen to see your subject
or is this who I really am?
are you drawing what you really see
or just what you think you see?
look closer, try again to paint me as I am
see my many layers of colour and shape

because baby, maybe I am a piece of work
but you're no artist, either

The moon hangs lower than ever before
On a man-made noose with your name
Lover, I'm growing old now
And you've forgotten my face and my voice
Or the way I'd whisper you between stars
Maybe you've never known the person
Who loved you as you were, as you are
She is dead and silent, buried 'neath
Snow falls and canyons darker
Than the centre of your eyes and colder
Than your breath against the air outside
Tell them all you like it better this way
Working to forget every piece of me