You and I could paint a really good picture.
Your deep red strokes with my blue strokes.
I kissed your lips until you forgot about your sorrows of yesterday and melted with my pleasure.
Do things that would make a Christian disgusted.
But we don't care.
Our sins are beautiful.
We swirled around until we combusted and made the perfect shade of purple.
While you were sleeping I couldn't stop looking at you.
I couldn't help but admire how the sun-kissed your bare skin through the window and how you were covered in my blue dust.
I couldn't help but think how this would look on a canvas.
People probably would've been disgusted, shocked or intrigued but I don't care.
They don't know the secrets that lie beneath our painting.
But we do.
We don't paint our canvas to please anyone but ourselves.
We get to choose what goes on it.
But I'm going to stop thinking about that.
I'm going to continue staring at every carve of your body until you wake up.
I hope it won't be soon.
-----------------------------------------------
A/N: Tell me what's your interpretation of this poem. I would've stated if it was heterosexual or not but I want your imaginations to run wild with this one. I know that the painting above is a man and woman but it's the only one that I found that looked similar to how I pictured the strokes in my head. Hope you liked it. Until next time.
-Salome
YOU ARE READING
Unspoken Thoughts
ПоэзияA collection of poems that I've written that will leave you feeling woke, sad or inspired. Most of them are things that I'm going through/overcoming and the rest are scenarios in my messed up mind. Hope you learn a thing or two.
