We painted pictures of perfection and piety
when we were young.
We desired to show the world what we could create
together.
We were novices;
using rulers to draw straight-edged lines
across the bad and lead each other to the good.

That path made us breathe
Easy.
We could see each other plainly.
Each dipped in our solid colors- you were an adventurous red
and I,  a warm orange
Light reflected off of you and back to me;
we basked in the company.

Then life started happening to us separately,
instead of in tandem,
and our paint began to chip.
We saw the timeworn canvas, stretched and weathered.
With squinted eyes and tilted heads
we strained to see the masterpiece.

It wasn’t until we grew and knew the spectrum of our feelings
that we could paint each other in different lights.
You picked up a brush and made my eyes wider,
my skin more colorful,
gave my smile staying power.
I held up a mirror and you saw your reflection lined in gold
and how simply the paint blended with your features.

We saw what we were, but more importantly what we could be.
We pieced together a new portrait.
Fresh, vibrant colors swept across that same worn canvas.
There was nothing else for them to do
but blend with what was already there.

As we touched up the lines that held our smiles
and spackled the fissures in our perspective,
we learned about the patience of authentic art
and, with a discerning eye, saw value in our efforts.
We learned to be artists-
Our colors not competing;
We share a single shade.