Soul painter

I have a canvas. I want to lie on it, press my body against it, pull away from it and see the colors of my existence on it.

I want to dance on it, and laugh on it, and see my emotions appear on it. I want to see the shades of pride and love and brightness on it. I want to see  bright reds shooting into oranges, yellow running into greens. I want to see my excitement on it. I can see it in my mind, and feel it in my soul. I want to show the world it.

I have a canvas. I want to lie on it, press my body against it, pull away from it and see the colors of my existence on it.

I want to grieve on it, mourn on it, and see my emotions appear on it.  I want to see the shades of remorse, guilt, and loss on it. I want to see watered down black dripping into greys, dark reds running off of it, lost in it. I want to see my confusion on it. I can see it in my mind, and feel it in my soul. I want to show the world it.

The canvas of my humanity. I can see it in my minds eye, and the deepest corners of my soul. This life, this canvas, how beautifully detailed in all the honesty of my humanity. The simplicity of my eradication. The strength in my revival. The beauty in my world.

Open

Here I stand.
I am open.
Or should I say here I lie. Here I lay. I am open.

I am fruitful. I have created life. I have grown a universe. Inside my body I have grown a mind.

I am girth. I am power. I am strength.

Yet, here I lie. Here I lay. I am open.
So easily you have normalized this. But no, this is not normal. This is not right.

The room is cold.

I wathched you.

I watched you.

I watched you.

I watched the light dance from your life,

the smile from your face.

I watched the nights bleed into your days and your eyes become hollow.

I watched you .. but I didn’t see you.

Or maybe I didn’t realize what I was watching.

You stopped your own breath.

I heard your voice. i thought it would effect me more then it did. I thought I would cry, maybe even get goose bumps. But I didn’t. I think its because it still sounded so fresh to me.

who am I now? Who are we now?
There is someone else inside of me. I keep her quite. her thoughts are big and creative and larger then the both of us. and she wants to change the world, she wants to fix fix fix.

but i keep her quite .i keep her in the lines. She feels to much. She cares to much. She cries to much. But she has a small light that sometimes is so strong that it escapes through my cracks. Those are the moments i realize just how many cracks I really have.

She was your daughter. When you took your own breath, she had to make hers more shallow, if i let her lose, she may feel all the pain of losing you. I dont want to feel that pain. I dont want to miss you as badly as she does.

she painted a flower. an abstract sunflower. Its one of the first times in a long time she has done sometime that others can see. Ive been keeping her thoughts locked down in my mind.

She would be a better mother. She would have seen.

 

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