your fingers felt like brush strokes on my skin,
butter soft and deliberate in their pursuit to map every inch of me.
you made colors appear and you made flowers bloom
in my scars and stretch marks and everything in between.
you painted me with the sort of reverence and unwavering attention
only ancient marble statues can attest to.
you made me feel timeless, made me feel visible, made me feel bold
and even if you forgot me in the studio of your other failed projects,
in that moment, you made me feel real.
I painted the sky lilac ..
With utopian crayons
That drenched me
Not visiting this site frequently due to exams!
Sorry for not reading your poetry...miss you,poets!
the chaotic wild fires of your thoughts
the inherent hesitance of your mouth,
did you spend all that time breaking down
the walls i'd built around me and my heart
so it would be easier for you to leave?
if you aren't meant for me,
then why does your smile fit so perfectly
into all the empty spaces of my heart?
you've soaked your soul in ache
so it's easy to see how the warm sting of love
must feel like an attack on the fibrotic remnants of your heart.
your eyes still look familiar
but the looks they give me now are foreign
I was built like a catastrophe
like so much wreckage and despair
that you felt compelled to look
but you hated every second of it
moonlight falls without bias
wicked me and benevolent you are the same here
they tell me to pick a poison
and my heart is set on you