I am not an artist,
but if I were, my craft would be loving you.
Our laughing between kisses; bright paint splashed across a canvas.
Our stories; tiles, broken to fit our edges together, a mosaic of us.
Gorilla love poetry found on sticky notes in my bag and love-hearts drawn in the fog of the glass shower door.
The moment your smile reaches your eyes; a Polaroid developing, colours appearing like vibrant flowers opening in morning rays of sunlight.
Phone calls, the music of your pencil scratching and my fingers dancing on piano keys.
Pencils and pens and paint trying desperately to catch the look in your eyes and the curve of your arms around me and my hands pressed against your back. Holding you close, breathing you in.
But that's silly.
There is no art like your voice,
whispering "I love you".
