Your mosaic soul shows cracks, shattered glass, jagged on the edges and red where your pricked your fingers trying to pick them up. I see pieces putting together something greater. your water color freckles, splattered over pale skin. I'd compare them to the constellations, but those are just shapes and the path im tracing with my fingers tells me much more. there's no dawn in your golden brown eyes, the sun I see shinning through stained glass is too bright to be just barely rising. you are reckless laughter caught in a shutter a frame by frame moment of the last trickles of childhood blackness blurring the edges around you from being left too long in the developer. your lips feel like oil pants, sliding over mine like a blank canvas, I can still see the masterpiece you made me into. I can still feel the whips of graphite tears pouring down your cheeks as you let all of the art you hold inside.
This sound so much better when read aloud and I will have a soundcloud up soon with all of my poems and slams stay tuned