she paints his eyebrows with the murky tan water
the color of the stems of poppies, the ones with the petals that extend into her hands, that cradle her river of braids and rose water cheeks, a murky pink along her mouth hidden behind a coffee soaked smile, just from that morning
a morning that the night fell asleep in her arms, inside her bed with the sheets of soften cream that warm the earth of her body and his body, a movement that stirs just beneath the surface, skimming the underside of the mind with the perfect skipping rock, that makes the 6 stone jump from feeling to action.
nearly there inside the walls of fluid motion not a second thought in sight
just simple raw real feeling, wild thoughts that please to express themselves with each-other.
the words of life that move together a community of thick poetic seduction.
his brush of pencils dulled with the written word, that he arranges along her spine to let her know the real him.
so he draws inside her skin the inspiration he grows from scratch
as he scribbles down expressions
her vertebrates make periods and her freckles form his commas, the birth mark on her lower back corrects his spelling.
a human instrument with strings and chords and life wrapped in hand craved wood by a natures mother.
she is a running spirt within his wrist to his finger tips
creating inside his forearms and inside his shoulders
releasing the tension from his neck and spine
no worries, take in the inspiration let it rain inside you
your heart will flood with love and your soul will float inside
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