She is an artist.
Perfectionist.
Enticing and lovely.
She would sit
In front of
The canvas
And paint for hours
And I would hug her from behind
And give her a kiss.
She is an artist
Painting the sky blue
Full of hues.
She would sit
In front of me
Staring into my eyes
And we'd stare into
Each other's eyes
For like what, hours?
And we would lie
Under the stars
When she would cutely gasp
Out of joy
Whenever an idea crossed
Her beautiful mind
And she would paint
The canvas
With all of her heart
Poured into it.
She is an artist
Painting my heart
With colors
I can see
Every time her sweet smile
Flashed in my eyes.
x
She is an artist
She once told me
About the stars
And how beautiful they are
When they collide
Well, I did ask her
'How did you know all this?'
She simply wrapped her hands around my shoulder
And replied
'I know because I'm looking at one.'
This poem's physical form was lost for a while and I was very worried :(
