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Sep 2013
The city sits above your eyes,
in dark mascara strokes.
Your soft pink lips are chapped and tried
unglossed, and un-baroque.

The flowers of a garden’s growth
are painted on each iris.
The laughter and the sadness, both
are on your cheeks that i kiss.

Your body sparkles, freckles brushed
are baked in your warm skin.
A bellybutton slightly pushed
by God’s last touch, thumb pin.
Richard j Heby
Written by
Richard j Heby  new york city
(new york city)   
  1.4k
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