Ink stained hands and paint striped hips
you fall into me, and I can’t remember
how we got here
it hasn’t stopped raining
and you’ve lost your muse.
a painting half done, you
come back to bed
the sheets receive the paint willingly
the yellow and red
joining green, blue.
I push away pens, make room for you.
a line of red travels from me to you.
Purple crackles across the sky,
missed by me and you
People in poetry with me next year, yea, you'll probably see this phrase at least once
Sin Sweet
All points indicate your danger
those, and the flame in your eye
You're forbidden to me
and your lips are sin sweet
All points indicate your danger
those, and the flame in your eye
You're forbidden to me
and your lips are sin sweet
no subject
Date: 2007-08-23 03:53 am (UTC)