Canvas

I look in the middle
and I see your face;
specks of black,
splattered on a white canvas.

I don’t look away
I cry tears—begging it—
to stop the demons in you,
to go away,
but I’d never leave you;
I’ll be the purest being you own.

I look in the middle
and I see me too;
specks of black,
drawn with a shaky hand,
mixed in with the reddest red,
splattered on this virgin canvas.

I see you.
I bleed your blood.
But I’ll be the purest being you’ll ever own.