and my hands dance along the canvas

It’s a bit darker than one would think
but that is why
some of us paint
to cover
the darkness
with color.

____________
my mind
wanders
wondering
if he’s alright
(He seems okay, he seems fine)
I’m wrecked of course
but hardly mind
dripping in
sipping in
time and wine.

como siempre
sin ti
lately ~

nights are empty
I am waking
walking
forwards
backwards
possibly stalking
a hopeless thought
I once forgot ~

Staring blankly
I laugh and thank thee
for the awakening
that was
absolutely unstoppable.
And now
my hands lift from the pages
ink and paint
translucent blue
a hint of orange
(a hint of you)
my hands dance
along the canvas
and I sigh
release my mind
into the way
I’ve learned to step back
and watch it all unwind.

I am madness

girl undefined

(and he seems okay, and he seems fine)
but what the fuck do I know
anyway
about the me
the him, the them
the they

we’re probably all fucking pretending to be okay
anyway …
and I’m here still savoring a winter day
before I fucked it all up
before I threw it all the fuck away

I remember
getting high in the bath
and then thinking later
that perhaps
if I left
he would follow.
what a goddamn hollow wish that was
what a goddamn hollow wish.

and now the shadows grow longer
love I meant to fade
grows stronger
and I lift my hands
from the place they dance
along the canvas that I found by chance
and I love my hands
like this ~ in color
of jewels and treasure
dripping with delectable
paint and pleasure ~

I wake
(waking, wake)
unafraid
unmade
and I’m okay
just to be awake today ~
blue eyes open
so damn wide
and it’s so good
to see my life
from this picturesque
perspective
I am my very own thought collective
learning a new ritual
of sinking in
diving in
reveling in
as the colors spin
and I’m adoring every minute of
this
delicious life
I stumbled upon
when I fell over him
and then
got back up
and learned to walk
again.

Janisse

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5 thoughts on “and my hands dance along the canvas

  1. I will comment in greater length when i get home tonight, but this poem is beautiful. Raw and pure love/strength. You should be proud of this. If it’s still up later tonight – im sharing it for you. Stay strong x

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: Keeping track, part 9 | Hating to Love

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