and comedic and tragic,
sad and magical,
and a collection of choices...
Choices to paint the walls an off-white,
cover up the blood,
which bathroom to use,
forfeit the head for heart,
hang the charcoaled sketch,
or burn it in the clawfoot tub.
However, what isn’t always apparent are the revisions,
the study, the observances of love and grief,
choice of burned before relief,
the olive green rug or the lonely Peloton bike.
It's the spaces between the sentences,
the door between the room,
the dreams between the wakes,
the ruffled sheets between the sleeps
that make up the most invaluable things
that make up us and our existences, respectively,
all intertwined, all the time.
Van Gogh painted Starry Night 21 times,
but I want to know about the tea
between the brush strokes,
the dried-blood bandages from his ear.
What nobody tells you
is usually what matters most about something.