So yes,

Feel free to paint my scalp any color you choose.
Massage color into my listless locks, and let the pigment seep through
the tiny, pin needle cracks in my skull.

I want to see the dye behind my eyes.
I want to feel the kaleidoscope making my broken mind beautiful again.

You are an artist, a concentration of stars, the gentle breath of a wayward nebula ambling through space and time.

Stars are in your eyes, my love, and I wouldn't have you any other way.

I am a hummingbird heart on a ripped up sleeve, a bumbling creature that brims with pretty words that are too big for her halfway heart mouth.

As you preen and paint, darling, save me this. I don't care what you paint me as- another mistake, a prayer on trembling lips, or manic mumblings after midnight...

Just christen my hair with your fingers when we're done. Run them through so that I can shake out stardust afterwards. Kiss me so I can taste honey on my breathe long after you've gone away.

Love me like I'm a promise worth keeping.