If you love me, you won't plung my canvas underwater.
If you love me, you won't let my paint peel, rise, nor fall apart.
And you won't wash your hands,
For they will be consumed with colors that flourish me.
You will look at me as if I am your Picasso, and I will never be a blank wall
in your introspection.
But God, if I become so, smear me with the reds and yellows that scream with desire
to fill the void.
And in return, I will never walk away with clean fingertips.
I will captivate, and I will mold clay to the shape of your jaw.
And If you love me, you will let me love you.
If you love me, you will love me with screaming color, for the world to see.