Thursday, December 29, 2016

All Artists are Twisted (Even the Bad Ones)

You've become abstract, love, 
dots on a canvas.
I reach for you, 
I don't know where your hand is.
No matter the distance, 
the picture's distorted-
I can stand here, baby, 
I've re-read and re-sorted. 
You've become abstract, love
but no less a distraction-
the rabbit is safe darling, 
it's non-fatal attraction.
Before I Van Gogh, darling,
just let me say,
I would give my left ear
if it meant you could stay. 

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