Samira

your art cracks me open, tears my gut out, drops my jaw, makes me cry & repaints some new part of me inside a different color each time.

(history relies upon dissonance, upon discontinued familiarity, and a fading into metaphors: the substitution of book for body; the colors that remind of her, and the sounds that have become him)

hanktheguywithrecords, loss, love, paul

1.
Partner
comes from parting.
To part.

2.
One parts
what was whole.

3.
I’m very partial
to you,
my partner.
So partial,
partially.
Only partial.

4.
The art
comes back
when you depart,
and I realize,
partner,
that you are not
part of me–
nor did take
part of me–
but have always
and remain
apart from me.

5.
Apart.
A part.
Part.
Art,
because
we’re apart

6.
Believing
you’re my partner:
I am the “art”
to which
you add the “P”.

7.
You are
my difference.

loss, love, paul, poetry