When I went down on my knees
in the dark with you and stared
up at that canvas it wasn't long
before I saw His face
or one I imagined
could belong to someone like him.
His long features; lips pouted and
chin sloped emerged
from the black and purple
from the vast oil bruise in the way
people always told me he would come
perhaps in less literal darkness
perhaps when I could feel the weight
on my back from all that he wasn't
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