Poetry: The Painted Girl

13 Feb

She was pretty as a picture
The apple of my eye

She would gaze into my eyes
Her mouth curved up at the edges

Dark curls framed her
Pale face
Thick lashes shielded
Liquid eyes

I could stare at you for hours
Awed by your delicate creation

I loved the canvas of your skin
The pigment of your mind

But how could I love you
When you’re a painted girl?

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Posted by on February 13, 2014 in My Writing


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