picture the canvas broken   a familliar face now obscured   trace over the oils with your fingers   absorbing old memories gone      pictures of your wilting eyelids   in portraits of your kept grief      and it hits like a brick   in a wave of obsidian    opaque.      with the loss of texture we examine   the foundations of our relationships   and discover black and white sentences   simple form in complex nature      picture the canvas broken-   abosrbing old memories gone.