Like red paint with a slight touch of white, carefully soaked in your dreams and then dexterously stroked into a masterpiece on canvas. A piece of art in the shape of a heart, you can feel the emotion by following the motion of the brush-strokes. Every blush notes the lush quotes of silent heartbeats begging to be heard. Not heavy yet there is a lot of weight to it, not hard, just firm and deliberate enough to make this heart drawn look heart-felt. When I see it I can only think of your heart pounding hurriedly in the presence of mine & I can only wonder how deep those brush strokes went into that canvas, I mean, how deep your love really is.
My officiousness leads me to imagine what love really looks like, when you peel off that red paint, beneath that resplendent surface, what does it look like. So I undress it slightly to address it lightly and we’re left with just the canvas. Now, when I look at this canvas called love, it looks like when your pair of beautiful brown eyes wanders across a crowded room and collides with mine. Immediately, we’re blinded to all else in that room, and all we can see is ourselves in each other, and each other in ourselves. It looks like, you and I, walking, on rose petals, hand in hand in the warm breeze the garden of life, barefoot of course, what’s the point of walking on rose petals if they don’t touch your skin? Love looks like a field of daisies, pansies and lilies, you & I, a couple of butterflies and the setting sun. Love looks like that day we sat on the park bench and you fed me strawberries, and as you finger rested on my lip; I couldn’t get your touch off my mind. And I don’t even like strawberries, but I eat them now, hungrily, and remember that moment, that touch. I like what this kind of love looks like, but this is only skin-deep. I want to go deeper so I peel the canvas off, now let me look at love.
Your love, looks like, you, frustrated with my stubbornness, tired of repeating yourself, only to find that you’re patient enough to tell me one more time. And my love looks like, me waiting tirelessly for you to get dressed, even after you’ve changed your outfit 3 times already and the show starts in 19 minutes. Our love looks like, us fussing and fighting for three hours, until we both look at each other, smile and realise that we’ve both forgotten what we’re fussing about anyways. This love looks like me, sitting in my room, thinking about you at 3:08am, and I haven’t had a wink of sleep yet. Yet, I want to go deeper still, beneath the flesh, right down to the core, I want to see the more, much more, deeper than the frame that holds love up. Now love looks like me sitting right here, right now trying to figure out how much I really love you, cause you said something hurtful yesterday. I don’t know how you could ever think i don’t pay attention to you.
I know it takes you exactly 2 seconds after you open the door to say, “honey, I’m home.” 9 seconds, after you take your shoes off, you plant a kiss on my left cheek in the middle of the kitchen floor. I know you always skip the second step when you go up or down the stairs because that’s the step that our puppy died on. I know, I turn my head to the door at least 15 times between the time I get home and the time you do. I know even though you put on a brave front, you can’t fall asleep unless you can feel me next to you. It takes you 6 seconds to exhale completely when you’re scared, and I know that where ever we go together, we’re never more than 60 seconds away from each other. At the end of the day, I come to a point when I want to take a good look at love. So lets put the flesh back on, cover it up with the skin, dress it back up and, coat it with that red paint. And see what love looks like. Love looks like you, in a red dress, like the red paint, with a white ribbon tied around the waist, holding my hand, looking into my eyes, and me, looking so deep into yours, I see past your red dress, past the red paint. Even deeper, past your beautiful skin, past the canvas. Deeper yet, past the frame, past the bone. It looks like your heart, and me clinging onto you because you’re the only one of you I have, so let me look at you damn it. How much do I love you? I’ll let time do the telling…
-abstract by Tedd V