It’s abstract
It doesn’t make sense at first
Its bright and complex, blurred but mesmerising
With every line, every splat, every smudge
You tilt and you turn determined to understand it
Finally you squint and suddenly its perfect
It’s clear. It’s a beautiful mess.
You and me, we’re abstract
You were my accidental brush stroke
Adding mystery to my painting
We’re unclear and so blurry.
Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever find an angle to make sense of us
And then I squint
I squint until I see our beautiful mess
I squint until the blurred colours are no more
In that moment we’re perfect
I’m so tired of squinting.
