Monday, May 5, 2014

20 Poems #2

He doesn't realize
that his fingertips
are paintbrushes that 
made art on my shoulders. 

He doesn't realize
that I was a blank
canvas and he 
has stained me. 

He doesn't realize 
that I became a relique 
placed behind glass,
no one can touch. 

He doesn't realize 
I would rather be
the tarp on his floor 
to still feel his existence
and catch some of his color. 

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