Tree branchesYou laid out your arms, and I put myself between them, Your arms thick like tree branches, hands rough like barkTree branches
I want to paint them, sculpt them, draw them, But really I couldn’t. Not well anyway. I wouldn’t get the veins just right,
The muscles wouldn’t be proportionate.
Lay with me.
Just stay with me.
I want to photograph them, to see them whenever I want to, To admire them, to frame them, To hold them whenever you’re gone, It wouldn’t be the same but it could be the next best thing.
Don’t let me fall f
I freakin' love you.
And I can't wait to see this upcoming weekend and sell stuff in your art fair.
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[NØTHING/REAL] Photography
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Sincerely, Blythe.
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