into the wall
that is my skin,
that peels away my resistance,
underscores
my inability to love
outside my canvas of influence,
and that with which
I in turn respond to you,
the brush, the palette knife,
that separates us
each from each
and therefore
one from One,
cripples both
until we understand
that with each stroke
of these embittered colors,
we paint ourselves
into a deeper, darker,
lonelier corner.
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