paint my blush
as roses –
my kiss
a cherry wine
fill me with your story –
and I shall give you
mine

a painter
not a poet –
a writer made to bleed
take my ears
so they might learn
the ways you came
for me

steal my breath
my every word
verse I thought to pen
take of rhyme surrendered
– and write it
to my skin

paint my dreams
by candle –
my morning with your smile
leave the stars
to wonder
where we go

. . .