Art is found in the ashes of happiness

I brushed the curvature of your spine
Thats the moment
i knew what Dali must of felt like,
putting fresh pastel colours
to a bitter barren canvas
Or how
Brect must of felt
when he first thought
of putting a great oak
in the middle
of a play

The dimensions break
 as your head fell
to my chest in
a drunken demeanour
clashing against
huddled silk
And i guess
thats what first
inspired cubism

I saw a little bit
of Zelda in you,
As your gaze still fixed
on whatever you were first
staring at, with that
i saw what Gatsby
was talking about


I guess
As Mother earth and God
did body shots off each other
they decided that
pain could be
the reason for
something beautiful