How do I tell you that you meant more to me? Walking, running, breathing. All those moments were you. I felt that I was yours. The moment made me belong to you. Your love felt like sweet sticky honey being spilled on a smooth surface of a wooden table. I felt like wood being shaped under your touch.
My skin aches. The thought of you is a cure of poison and gin. Remember me when we were happy. We are happy. I felt like I was one of those dancing figures in Matisse’s Dance. Violet skies covered us while we jumped and a rough wall had my back when you didn’t. You reached right into me and I opened up to you like I shouldn’t have. I could have died right there in that moment but I didn’t
I woke up to live another day. Rain drops covered my smiling face. Light came in through the window looking for a body to rest on so I gave it mine. Will I find you again? Will I live in your world for another day? I wonder.. This all remains a fixed but melting piece of ice in a glass of tonic something. It was a photograph in a visual paradigm that conquered the conditions of my life. Will I move again and change this stillness that I’ve come? I will observe this image of moving wind coming through the hairs of the back of my neck. This was an art piece that only you and I could understand and relate to. I’d use you to keep this machine from breaking down.
Light has become an image that fills in a room with memories of you walking away. You might as well be a Gothic cathedral that I’ve once walked into so frightened and unsure of the unknown. I am responsive to what shall come my way. But seeing you when I’m awake and in my sleep means that I’ve found what I would come to title “life”.
Slow down now. You know me not. Step back into the light so I could see what I have done to you. Have I done anything?
Photo: Collage work. Photograph + Drawing/Engrave [acrylic on glass]