Painting (Me)

This slight blur (that is us) rocks me to sleep -
no cradle, no hymn, no circumstance,
no story that is old, no history untold,
no rhyme. This slight blur that is

how I am with you. Is it wrong to
Photoshop myself a life? To morph into a
velvet doe-eyed girl? To imprint
myself across your lids? So every time
you close your eyes, you have to
see me beautiful.