Study on a Room

I was brought to life by a brushstroke. I was cream. I was gray. I was a kaleidoscope of oil earth tones spun together until something resembled skin. A face. A haunting stare forever entombed on canvas framed by burled oak and hung on a rich man’s wall looking over the black leather loveseat to whoever may enter this room that is my room and the place I will hang until the sun strips me of texture, color, assemblage.