I know a girl
with wandering eyes
who paints her dreams
on giant canvases.
her lopsided ponytail
is secured by a paintbrush
and I swear she looks most beautiful
when her lips are pursed
and nose scrunched up
as she tries to get that final detail
just right.
disheveled and sleep-deprived
with coffee stains on her tired smock,
she brings to life
intricate images of her subconscious.
detailed landscapes
free of the burden of mankind
with creatures whose names
I find unpronounceable
but they roll off her tongue just fine.
one day
in her cluttered studio
her paintbrush meets my cheek
with a fiery line of red.
I catch her hand in mine
and she meekly says,
"I dreamt that you were mine
so I thought I'd paint you,
too."
our lips touch
and the paint smears
as we are brought to life
among her dreams.