Your fingers the pencils
Your lips the painting brush
And me the empty canvas
Waiting to be touched
As your lips are finding
Every part of my neck
And your nails scratching
Up and down my back
And piece by piece you
Paint me in all these hues
A bright red and some purple
And maybe even black and blue
And your lips won't stop
Colouring every part of me
You're the upcoming artist
And I'm your masterpiece
YOU ARE READING
What I Leave Behind
PoetryWe all want to be remembered. We all leave pieces of ourselves behind. This is one of mine. This is what I leave behind. A collection of poetry, without a theme, made up of my favourite pieces I've written over the years and pieces I will write in t...
