Distorted, like a slob of paint

Photo by Raspopova Marina on Unsplash

Distorted like a slob of paint
I find myself thinking of before.
How it must have felt,
and the invisibility that breaks
when you realize you're in love.
Like water running over a painting
before it is dry.

Drowning everything;
artist and art.

Sometimes I imagine myself
as colors, and you
a blank canvas.
So I try to paint myself
on you.
But it never stays.