wishing to crawl into bed beside you and drown out the worries of the world, that have so carelessly been kept inside of me, with the sound of your heartbeat-
hand to chest i wish to record each beat by inscribing it, like a ECG test- creating something out of the beautiful music your heart plays out.
I wish nothing more than to pull back the surface and discover a world of new, a world of you- like a clock I would observe each gear and learn what makes it twist, spin, and tick.
engraving into you my initials so that girls to come would know who rightfully discovered a different side of yourself.
I would read to you fine words and use your body as a canvas, or even a roadmap, spreading paint and creating strokes that could sell in auction.
I could admire you for ages, I say
and without hesitation or a need for affirmation, you wince and explain, “you have created apart of me not many would understand, but many could admire. Your art is not a sight for your eyes only.”
and just like that, you’re sold.
your body a guide and eyesight for the people of the world to ponder and examine- Picking apart your flaws as i never did. But, I cannot deny their habitual need to window shop.