String of Light


When I speak of art,

I am talking about you.

For.

I cannot look in your

Face, smote I am upon the blue

Of your eyes.

As such.

I would more than give myself away.

I would fall

Headlong

Into that revery.

So.

I dance

With my words,

Describing things that make

My heart beat faster.

To mask my intent.

I am not speaking of oil

Paintings.

Or the soda pop

Bubbles of Angelic musings.

No.

I am speaking of how the

Song of your face across from me

Sings with the magic of the days ending,

Full of

Love signs and cafe lights.

So.

I talk about art.

Instead of your eyes.

 

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