If I Were a Painter...

If I were a painter
I'd paint you with broad brushes
Smothered in pinks and greens
Like blushing cheeks and eyeshadow.
You'd be short, harsh strokes of blues and purples
Eyes peering over the rising steam of coffee mugs
Paint, sweat, and tears mixing on cold floors.
I'd hold up my brush and let paint spatter
Wherever it happened to land
In bright red blobs and splashes
Like late-night drives to nowhere
Skipping class to swing in the park.

I'd sit over you in the cold
A cigarette dangling from my lips
The end smoldering, ash falling all over you
While I wonder what the hell
I'm supposed to make of this mess
That I can't help but enjoy
More than anything that I know.
I'd pull out lighter fluid
Splash it all over the place
Taking in the smell of spontaneous explosions
And creeping inevitability
Then stand over you as I give you up
And return you to the gods
From whence you came.