Brushstrokes.

The knowledge that I’ve seen you
has changed the way I’m seen

The Devil went 
left his evil

and you the need to heal

So I will use a centrifuge

Produce an antidote

A fancy pharmaceutical

containing all my hopes

Born into the worst of moods

watch me while I cope

Swallow feelings like i'm eating food

The fullest hungry ghost

The world does not deserve your grace

At times my eyes meet yours

and I quickly avert my gaze

down toward the floor

A futile space between us

seeks to drive us home

Lift my sights up from the floorboards

onto you, how i've grown!

“Little imperfections”

You denounce God’s brushstrokes

There could be no worthwhile expression

on a canvas of monochrome

The Accents in your eyes

He himself mixed that hue

Could you imagine “A starry night”

with a different blue?

Yes, your beauty is palpable

It has the strongest grip 

Let it reach into my chest

Claim as yours 
what it constricts.