i wish
i could spill bold beauty
from the tips of my fingers
from the end of my pencil
from my lost lips that open
to let fly a dust of a dry inside

i wish
i could free loved ones from the wasting weight
this wild spinning wasting wait
that i could pour colour into the gray lives
but every letter on the screen
every graphite gray HB stroke
leaves black shapes that make black words
they stand out stark against the white
this darkness that fills my foggy sight
reminders that
every truth, every effort at a healing aesthetic
is made of shadows