Most days and most nights

w.n.

Most days and most nights

I used to take a red paint brush

To my pores

And I saw angels

Nights I felt rain on my neck

That wasn’t cold nor hot

Mornings I felt a cloud from 

The sky 

Suction out of me

Days I felt smooth and cold 

Gray blankets

And breathing on my cheeks

I felt galaxies open

And I poured all the people in

Each stoke was a blaze

Everything was in my eyes

I remember the pillows to lay my head on

There were sheets on my walls

I created sculptures upon strokes

And drawings pursing through the fabric

Each new piece

Replenished me with more ink

For my red paintbrush

That washed my pores

Its gift

To my body

I will never let drift 

When I sleep

When I wake

And truly when

Everyone I love

Kisses my canvas goodnight