In love
The man in the black silk shirt has freckles all over his chest of where the night he made it happen left
its mark or the sun or the hairs and the woman he loves likes to make a snowman a smiley face a dotted
woman’s dress with paints and markers all over him the silk shirt is the better part of her hands and face
against his chest in a dark room where they confess when they go out she wears red and he calls her
Venus though its distance is in her eyes with a bad camera shot though her lips speak into his ear his
heart his palms though the stuck on you is close as a strobe light dancing and holding on his chest is
every night he tried now pooled together as one
