tissue paper armor

the woman            
like me            
bows to art            
           
we hurt each other shredded           
just to write suture          
and pigment-patch      
us back       
   
together            
           
let's laugh aloud
as tears dilute
each medium            
           
stab me a heart my dear            
and i'll help you matte it            
(pretending it's not mine),           
we'll systematically hang it            
using a level        
a worn rounded hammer          
and 3/8 inch tacks;            
hidden            
behind a sculpted wooden frame            
that cherubs committed suicide            
to be depicted in            
           
i'll ignore your fear            
to all the way fall            
and will trash pick            
sandpaper scraps            
to polish my shit            
           
hide            
and rise            
behind our art            
because it's not life            
or death            
we waste our time on            
           
it's love