Looking at Art - a love poem

A casual text vibrates in my hand,
“what do you think? does this work?”
And when I tap on the image included,
the bloody reds and bruised blues,
the angst ridden drips that streak down
the canvass…
It’s a sunset scene of a small harbor, 
a few boats and waterside shacks,
but now smeared with his anger
or confusion, cool underneath.
I feel his fears in the fiery sky,
I think the thoughts painted
deep into the dark water.
One brush stroke is something
he said to me walking by the bay
late at night as the stars spun.
That blue, that’s almost black,
is a mumble or movement
as he sleeps and dreams.

But when I see it in real life,
the tight tissues in my chest
start to pull apart and expand.
The tearing, not like paper,
but like a muscle
about to get stronger.