MY COLD BLOOD...

I try and try,

And every time I seem to be walking straight into a storm,

I am losing grip and becoming wet with all the water on my face.



My heart and patience are growing cold.

I light the fire that is romance with you,

But I seem to get it wrong all the time.

I cannot get it right.

I fear, not getting it right.

Don't break me,

For I am broken all too much.

All my pieces, frozen in attempts to light this fire.

Keep it burning,

But I,

I cannot walk the path that is fiery yet I long to burn alone.

The fire you started burnt out long ago.

For you, I have walked the long road,

I have swallowed all I can,

But my pride is going to be my downfall,

A failure I seem to want to welcome.

I am not hot,

The snow seems the only white I care for.

A storm is coming,

Like in the past,

I have faced it alone.

Risk it all again, should I?

An avalanche is the least of my worry,

The ice that is in place of my heart is spreading,

And like a disease,

It will melt all the warmth that is my soul.

Cold nights are now an island of peace,

Pieces I have learnt to pick up,

With bare hands numb from the cold.

I am a sad hue,

Like the frozen heart,

That sadly attempts to pump my cold blood.





 

MY CANVAS...

You,

My canvas,

On which I am free to create all I want.

As I lay here with you,

Your dark skin so smooth,

my brush hardly staying steady.

Paint me, will you please.
 

Take my hand, place it on your chest,

Let your palm be my brush.

Give me no boundaries,

Let me break the rules,

Your blood, the deepest hue I desire.

Your curves, height and breadth,

Details I long to have engraved in my mind.

You are like dark chocolate,

And I want nothing more than you in thick milk.

I see the way you look at me

With eyes filled with nothing but desire.

I spread my own and wish you'd paint on the canvas that is me,

I stay here,

Spreading myself thin,

The arch that is my back in a timid curve,

Drying out in the heat of the moment,

One stroke all I long for,

But I know your brush can only paint your own.

My hands apart in an attempt  to cover all loose ends,

Tie all knots you leave untied,

Try to keep fresh, become a canvas worthy of your attention.

Paint me will you please.

Your violets and your rainbows,     

One I am ready to bow for,

Just to stand counted in the paintings in your collection.