C
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when you call me beautiful
is it for love?
when you hold me close
is it for love?
when you kiss me
is it for love?
when you call her beautiful
Green
Green exhales a breath of life, his pigment; covers the landscape that of a stroke Picasso. His art,
seen. His touch, gives birth to the universe.
Don’t foresee
Everything
With discontent
A day
Will come
For you too
Beauty
Is not something
That is concerned
To the way you look
The only thing
Tears roam. They taint the atmosphere as light ominous vapor. I've cried enough for us to both be pain free. The idea of leaving this room is the catalyst of a cataclysmic brain freeze. I don't wanna be free. Anymore.
