And then your wife would keep on coming in.
I know, You loved this casual intercourse,
I know, and no-one you'ld 've rather seen;
But part of you was probing happiness
On canvases in blobs of black and green —
Eyes that despite their strength could not meet hers

Emotion overflows and the soul's bare,
Communication's nearly clearly reached,
But, knowing all, you wonder who you are —
You are more you than such was ever such,
And a person you'd never known before.

At the same time. Italicise that "and"
The point of strength and vulnerability.
Bit different from those times lending a hand
Washing the dishes, filling the cat's tray
(You know those lulls that let you take your mind
Off "things", and don the guise of everyday).

Half-truth. And, true, no matter after all —
Her processes are similar to yours.
That is, she knows those "things"; feels vulnerable
Herself; she's grown and lived with what for years
She's grown to love because inseparable.
She knows what goes to make up characters.

Well, I was going to say how well I knew
The petty irritations you endured
Slapping on paint; I knew exactly how
Mundane your thoughts could be; the tricks you'd tried
For hiding what you thought was too much you.
Inspired, why not? But baffled too, and bored.

Then I got side-tracked unaware. I tried
To cut you in two, one half I suppose
Marked "Man", the other some grim word like "Bard".
Bullshit. Let's face it, each can be a pose
When necessary, and that's no dirty word;
But truth's the whole caboodle. Each bit plus.

All art, like love, like LIFE , is a surprise!
We can't avoid our own humanity,
Creating from sincerity disguise
Disgust beauty simultaneity
Exasperation faith analysis
Joy lots of things truth children unity.