On Canvas
Or
Whatever surface.
I spill paint and words
and I emote
I let it all bleed out.

Sometimes it’s pretty.
It’s Art. Artistry at its best.

A picture forms and it looks  like
a lovely moment in time.

Other times it’s a smear of dark hues
slaps of paint
angrily thrown on canvas.  


And other times it’s just a sigh.
A small stroke of pastel paint.
Looking for solace.

Every little stroke of paint.
Colour.
It’s me.
It’s me.