The Canvas

Your eyes float

Upon the blues, and greys,

Of the paintings

They bleed with the ocean

That drowns your mind

It’s cold, this life

It cuts like a knife

Stings like frostbite

If you let it

If you immerse yourself

In the iced brushstrokes of the canvas

My eyes instead

Trace the reds, and the whites

Of the people

They melt from the fire

That ignites my heart

It’s warm, this life

It sings like a fife

Rings despite strife

If you make it

If you reveal yourself

To the brightened smiles of the faces