he whispered his affections like an apology
cooling down her heated skin with the chill of the winter inside his chest
he gave her words of gold
she was bronze at her best
he placed sandbags on her shoulders and demanded her to take flight
she didn't think love was supposed to be feel like a bear trap
he tells her his knuckles were a paintbrush
the black and blue were his colors of choice
her skin was a ever healing, walking canvas of pale colors