Her Dark Sky

The first time I laid my eyes on her, her eyes read "caution: handle with care," I knew best to stay my distance. Her poison ivy skin kept her heart almost as it was composed of petals from a rose, tucked in.

But something intrigued me. And oh. She was breathless, but not in an ill-mannered way. Art, the most beautiful art, that's what she was. She had these beauty marks scattered on her snow white canvas. And I wanted to be the one to connect the dots. Figure out her dark sky and draw constellations.

A day arrived when I delievered a lavender kiss to her heart shaped lips. Her cold soul, once upon a time, carried euphoria. I knew the day I met that black tar soul it'd someday be soft chewy taffy. That's precisely what happened. Ever since she met me, her eyes no longer read, "caution: handle with care," poison ivy vanished, and most important of all, I added illumination to her dark sky.

This poem is about: 
Me

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