I close my eyes and picture you.
Take a second to remember your unruly hair
and how your eyes are painted a captivating brown.
You are art.
I’m not saying that in a cheesy way.
I’m saying this because all forms of art desperately need to be appreciated. Just like you.
You are art in the way your hands skirt over my hipbone.
You are art in the way your tongue darts over your strawberry lips.
You are art in the way you think; odd and messy, chaos in an engaging way.
You are art in the way that you inspire me.
You are art in the way you make my heart pound and my mind race with haphazardly strung together thoughts.
You put me into a frenzy of love and devotion that no one has before.
Keep being art.
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