Never loved music 

Till you played in my chest 

With your eyes 

And strung visceral knots 

With your hand in mine 

Never cared much for art 

Till you drew pink almonds 

On my neck 

With the paintbrush between your teeth  

And crescent moons on my back with your nails  

The art was lovely 

At certain times and places 

In a certain order and fashion 

Till your work became too abstract 

For anyone to understand 

But me 

First were my eyes 

Sinatra was your inspiration 

I’m sure 

But no one told you 

He had blue eyes and not blue lids 

You painted red streaks on my lips 

And on the walls  

Made Pollock seem elementary 

I was still falling in love 

In other ways 

On the couch 

On the floor 

Falling everywhere 

Till gravity had my senses 

And i was numb from being your canvass 

Your falling canvass 

It was all fine 

Till the day i fell down the stairs 

Your final masterpiece 

White marble stained in your favorite colour… 


Author: loladeniyi


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