Years ago, I saw this painting and fell in love with it. The colors – the vibrancy of the colors – but the subject. The kiss is definitely one of love – intimate love – a passionate one that only can come from intimacy. When I came across this image a few weeks ago, I felt it….not just loved it – but felt it deep inside me. I understood it – his hand on her neck the way it is – their connection – that kiss.
While looking for something yesterday, I came across this one……and I felt this one too. For a whole different set of reasons….
I told G today that I feel like an idiot – for feeling like I do – for caring like I do. I don’t know why I chastise myself like that – but I’m guessing it’s because I hate feeling weak. I wish for a time in the past where there was a wall people stayed on one side of – and I could keep all of this shit on the other side. It felt safer. It kept me from understanding that painting. But the right people tore through that wall –
So now I can’t.
I feel you and I feel me.
And at times, those feels leak from my eyes.
It’s who I am.
On one hand, I accept that is who I am.
On the other hand, I wish I could shut it off.
But then I wouldn’t be me.
Not that it matters…..
…….thus the conundrum.