Canvas

I like to get my feet wet in a myriad of acrylic paints and make a mess of them with you.

Our toes leave neon prints across a floor of pristine white.

We break into Life's house, drag her expensive canvas off of its stand,

and place it on the floor,

relentlessly making collages of rainbow footprints in cacophonous harmony,

Toes tickled with mischievous purples.

Because we like Life, 

and unceremoniously paint her messy portraits.

Our hands discover a tub of electric blue,

and soon there's not just footprints across tile,

but electrifying finger paintings of gummy candies on the wall;

lightning bolts on her couch.

When we're caught red-handed, we good-naturedly wash the scarlet paint off of our fingers

Because we know we'll be at it again tomorrow.

It's such a thrill

to wake in the morning 

and paint with you.

Author's Note

I'm a bit uncomfortable with the ending, but after much thought, I couldn't think of anything else. If all the colors disagree with your eyes, please tell me.

Reviews

[Arly Parent]

I...flippin...love...the colors. And I love how you said this. It's...just too great.