us

[shaesinister]

there's something
freeing
in blacking out a canvas
unhappy with the image beneath
covering those errant strokes
with the matte black
of tomorrow's imagery

you lay upon the bed
coated in comforters and
sweat
and i, with a large brush
begin to coat your skin
with payne's gray

though i stop
to consider
leaving your lips
that same shade
of red.