Wet Paint
Remember that day, when we painted
markings on each other's bodies?
How we waited an hour,
but the paint didn't dry.
So our fingers became brushes
and the lines became smudges,
and inky rivers of sweat
that flowed to the bedsheets
where we painted our love
but the paint didn't dry.
Posted Feb 29, 2016, 5:15 PM UTC
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