time will have distorted your features
beyond recognition and my paintings
wont make sense like they used to—
today i see a map, a skeleton, a face.
all youll be is paint.
i feel as though
the two halves of my brain
creating a sort of rift in my being,
a mariana trench in my mind.
you are at the bottom of
this sunken place.
suspended in time,
buried under years of brain matter.
no matter how hard i try
i just can't drown you.