I want to outline your body in red paint and turn it from a crime scene to a cathedral
If looks could ****,
I'd be a villain

Your hair drapes down your spine in church spires.
As your fingernails bloom lilacs I realize that I am a to-do list and you are a painting.

I was always one for structure,
Like 12 point font, Times New Roman,
And closets organized by color.

Until you appeared.

You were Comic Sans,
And messy rooms.
You wreaked havoc on my walls,
And dripped your ****** paint down my veneer sink.
You lacked structure and turned me to ruined flesh.

It's been four years since,
And I am still trying to pick up the shards of glass off the bathroom floor.

At eight years old I lived in a house with rickety floors
The wood was wearing thin and the foundation was visible through the cracks,
But other than my frilly pink dress,
I thought it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

Eight years later the floors remind me of you.
Your skin is cracking your foundation is crumbling,
And your patience is as thin as the walls,
But I still think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen