I used to live my life in the margin,
Still do.
Within the safe borders of my existence
Inside the bold lines of morality and values

And Art was always there

Lying underneath my surface
Creeping into my thoughts
Posing infinite alternatives to my rigid solutions
Opening my mind to things that I’d never heard of
Things I never knew could exist

Art told me: 

Contradictory things
Opposites attract better
than the comfortable walls of homogeneity
There are more paths than just one, so
there is no need for Sameness

the more opposite Art is, 
of me
The more I am intrigued.
The more stuck I am in my ways
Art is intrigued with me

Art has been within me
vibrant, pulsating, rich
flowing through my warm, red-blooded veins

Coloring me with

a red hue that paints the fallen autumn tree leaves
a red that reflects the intensity of my deepest desires 

a feeling that makes me pick up a pen and write for Art
or an iPhone to take pictures of Art 


And the more I try to fight Art;
the more I deny myself the pleasure of freedom
In exchange for my already established norms,
Art patiently waits for me be to be ready to fully accept Him

or Her

waiting patiently beneath my surface


we flirt every now and again

Until the whirlwinds of bliss are disturbed
By the omnipresent existence of society’s rules and schedules

and Art gently waits for me to come back
to express my deepest, silliest, vulnerable secrets
All the while, 
wanting what I want

to be accepted

What Do You Think, Sis?

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