Mosiac

I can see you blush.
awkwardly, rosy pinks
when I lift a finger to hush
your heart, it sinks
into a pool of honey
tile. by, tile. I build a mosaic
of you from my eyes
like an equation, algebraic
your body cannot hide lies,
from an artist
who creates for your attention,
perhaps not the smartest
but relies on her comprehension
of the space around your skin,
you are her only sin,
as she loses herself within.

 

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