To my painting that alludes me
I bury you under layers of fear. It is because of my doing that you are so far away (right now). It is because of my doing that I never give up. I bathe you in layers now hidden. And I live to uncover you again and again. I wash you clean and see the remnants of dreams. I cover you up to make me fight. I close my eyes, move the brush and together we dance lost in time. We are partners and you have taught me the most.
I have not made my paintings, they have made me.
I have not made my paintings, they have made me.
No comments:
Post a Comment