the writer and the artist

the writer was always in love

with the artist.

 

the writer was patient, kind, and steady

the writer wrote about the artist.

the artist was freer:

long dark hair and a playful side smile

bright blue eyes always with a hint of anger.

 

sometimes the artist would work topless.

that much skin made the writer

forget to write.

the writer craved the heat offered

by the artist’s quick mind

gentle hands

and questionable lack of knowing when to bite their tongue

 

the artist needed the stability

the calm coolness

of the writers thought process.

the way the writer spoke with

intention and importance,

innocently commanding the company

 

together they were a fissure of

maybes

of friendly questions from friends

asking the name on the packaging

of their union

confused by the joy caused by confusion

 

the writer didn’t have answers.

many short stories

poems here and there,

the outline of a novel.

 

The writer was always in love

with the artist

the artist made art.

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