a year full of life

like a canvas

you painted me like a canvas -
a base of white,
one stroke blue
the next red -
light strokes to make purple
[was it a sunset you were painting?]
the next bit a fiery red
mixed with a bright yellow,
everyday you told me that i was beautiful
[you'd say the same about the sunset outside]

i think subconsciously i'd like to ask you
which you thought shined brighter
[me? or the sunset you've painted me to be?]
but deep down i was too scared
that the answer might not be either

what if you were more entranced
with the stars in the sky,
then the ones you dotted
all over my skin in a haze
of misty love and burning passion
[what if at the end of it all,
once you've had your fun
and painted me
- without a blank spot left to fill -
you decide that you like sunny blue skies
more than deep raging sunsets]