Scrawl the Hearts Page
If lines run straight, we see where they walk,
If steps walk circle, we paint them in chalk,
We keep steps held, like clouds hold tears,
A watered down face, grows sad around fears,
Grow me in rose and leave me for red,
Paint me to fill, print cheek on my bed,
Hands when in touch, creative to spill,
Combine and enrich, when in grasp they fulfill,
When in sky's and in floors, neutral we fly,
Not when sad nor in angst, do we rain-pour or cry,
If our lips were discolored and tonal like skin,
Our kiss would feel white, but still gleaming within,
So paint me in rainbow and feel who I am,
Pick where we go and I’ll give all I can,
Carve in our names on the root of a tree,
So they grow when we fall and feel where we see,
Like that in tree, that provides where I write,
Touch each letter hear, as it's printed on white,
Pick me in rose, as I scrawl on hearts page,
Let eyes blur mistakes and roots rainbow with age.
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