picture the canvas broken
a familliar face now obscured
trace over the oils with your fingers
absorbing old memories gone

pictures of your wilting eyelids
in portraits of your kept grief

and it hits like a brick
in a wave of obsidian
opaque.

with the loss of texture we examine
the foundations of our relationships
and discover black and white sentences
simple form in complex nature

picture the canvas broken-
abosrbing old memories gone.