I've never understood those art classes were you sit in a circle & paint the model in the center.
I understand you're painting beauty but even after a while wouldn't the model lose its "beauty"
You would end up seeing the imperfections.
I never understood that till tonight
Watching your eyes dance across my features as I talked
Watching your eyebrows furrow every time I say something that's a little bit outlandish
Watching your lips as they tell stories of your past & your wants.
Watching your hand make music on thigh as you drove.
That's when now I could sit in a circle for hours and paint every aspect of your features
And trust me when I say no amount of hours could make me believe it was any less beautiful than it was before.
YOU ARE READING
My bleeding heart
PoetryI have written a lot of poetry and thought it would be nice to post on here. Every poem that is posted is by me from my brain. please do not steel but you may share. thank you , hope you enjoy!
