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your watercolors run into mine
your watercolors run into mine,
and your lines end with
my curves
my lovat eyes and your sable
yet if I spend too long on the symmetry
of our hearts,
remind me to speak of the unity as well
created from a vermillion chaos
that passion knows so well, but
hasn't met
Saturdays playing tag in our home
like little kids under a cerulean sky
and critics say the splatters on the
edges of your hands
are only afterthoughts, but they miss
(in viridian envy?)
the way your thumbs rest
at the corners of my eyes, for my tears are not misplaced
to you, only erased
to create jacinth smiles
and that is how your watercolors run
into mine,
with hesitant brushstrokes but a steady hand
and ivory intentions
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Favorite Quote:
“If you're losing your soul and you know it, then you've still got a soul left to lose” <br /> ― Charles Bukowski