I want to write;
I want to trace the tributaries of the rivers over the violet of your veins
So that they weave into my hair.
I want to paint the sunset into your eyes
(They already glow golden honey)
So that every time you smile with your eyes you burn my universe.
I want to pencil
The crevices of a shell into your chest
So that i can hear the ocean when i lean my head against your heart
(The sound can pulse like the crash of waves).
I want to ink
The poems that hum in my mind onto every inch of your flesh
(Like a tattoo of black and blue cursive)
So that infatuation is spelt out to you in intertwining freckles and consonants.
I want to colour emotions into your laughter lines
So that every time you move your saturated lips
I feel everything all at once
Like the feeling of sand between my toes
(Or leaves beneath my palms).
I want to spill my palette
And wash my paintbrushes in your tears
Until watercolour drips into my open mouth;
I want to create a masterpiece out of you.
-by holly boyd
YOU ARE READING
Words We Cannot Speak
PoetryPoems; Woe and hope, love and despair Poems mend us, they repair. Broken souls mixed with broken minds, Poems teach us what it is to be alive. They offer thoughts to inspire. They give us hope to aspire, They answer unanswerable questions They offer...
