one

4.2K 411 52
                                                  

my baby, soft and dreamlike. smooth reds, dark and velvet— dulcet. starry eyes honeyed brown as he swallows the moon full, silhouetted in purity. when his mouth opens, a lotus flowers from it— warm pinks and lilacs with sweet nectar embroidering his lips. i could paint him in his own palette and name it after his smile.

he is tentative; kind. he waters me, and i grow— i blossom because i love when he shines; my marigold sun tethering his rays around my lungs.

i could survive in a drought. i wouldn't wither. i wouldn't die.

paintingsWhere stories live. Discover now