it was like he was painting
his master's thesis on my body
i was his canvas, and
he was taking his time
studying every side of me,
filling my frame with rich paint,
spreading red and purple lust and
leaving no inch without beauty.
YOU ARE READING
there is a girl
Poetrythe journeys of feeling the ups-and-downs in mere minutes. a collection of poems about self-love, neuroticism, grief, romance, and internal struggle.
