You said I had an interesting face

I knew you loved me then

When pretty girls were always eager

You chose a complicated woman

Not an easy path

Trampling the brittle bones

Of my past

While I would turn back

And try to resurrect them

Never really closing doors

So that the slightest breeze

Would blow them open

Oh, how you begged me

To give you the keys

But their weight in my pocket

Was a strange comfort to me

As if the chance to keep looking

At the scorched earth outside

Would remind me of the love

I now possessed

But even after all this time

With all your reassurances

And the absolute surety of your love

I can’t help but wonder if

You would have been happier

If my face was less interesting

When you can’t write….

It seems I have a short attention span. Writing continuously for the past three days on my novel has already taken its toll. But in the spirit of remaining creative and yet giving the writing a rest, I picked up the pencils to sketch. I’m still struggling with symmetry and I don’t have the angles quite right, but it’s an improvement I think… Voila:

And here’s the photo I copied:

Meret Oppenheim 1934, Man Ray