he's already told me
if art were a girl
he'd **** her brains out

but I think you should know
a bed is not a canvas
but a bed

her hands are not brushes and pens
they're palms and fingers,
her face is not an array of pastels
it's a face of emotion,
her arms and legs are not shapes and figures
they're arms and legs,

and her voice does not hold flashes of reds,
and purples,
and blues,
and silvers,
and golds,

they're flashes of human.

Cracked an eye,
still a smooth blanket of dark.
Glue unstuck, the pebbles tumble
to my brain and scoot and sing
across a caffeine urge,
simple movement,
groggy knowledge.

Urination, caffeinated, contacts in,
rockslide.
The inner bump and stumble,
never slowing,
Dead awake.

If kisses are water, I'll give you the seas
If hugs are leaves, I'll give you the trees

If passion is feathers, I'll give you the birds
If devotion is letters, I'll give you these words

If sweetness is blue, I'll give you the skies
If forever is seconds, I'll give you my time

And if love is life, then I'll give you mine.