Curled up
On the tiny blue sofa
Beneath the open window
With the wispy curtains
With the blue flowers
Somewhat reading Gatsby
Somewhat thinking of you
Floating in
And out
Of consciousness
Wishing I was in that field
Cold damp grass
Beneath my pale feet

You are wishing to touch my skin
Fingering oil paints across my canvas
Painting a world on my body
Connecting my freckles
To match the constellations
Shrouded by the darkness up above

The sky opens up
Hands linger on parts of me
That long for them to return
Tracing my jaw line
Running up my spine
Caressing the nape of my neck
Whispering my name

Rain drops wash the paint away
Sunlight glistens through the crystals
Hanging down from my ceiling
My mind clarifies
Sun stained eyes magnify