My colors are many, no limit in shade:
    phlato, rose, mauve, sky, blood red,
    sometimes gentle, sometimes violent,
    and never always the same.

My destination is already saturated:
    color filled, messy, splotchy,
    some colors so mixed and
    blurred that they’re black.

But my canvas will dry, and the
    blue tears and
                             red rage and
                                                sunshine warmth
     will stay, staining it all

But that doesn’t mean that there’s not room
    for more paint,
    for more years,
    and more colors atop it all.