Arge to fall in love with an artist,
The way we were covered in paint laying on his canvas, and he called me an art,
He was there with all his skin tainted with different colours and the way I fought my strong will to paint him with the shade of my lipstick he found as his favourite,
My chest warmed up at the sound of his laugh,
I rolled over at his side and in a split second I devour him with nothing but my lips.