He’s An Art

Painted skies make me think of you.

In the hope I am your muse.

In the space where you call my name,

A constant sweet perfume.

Everything is perfect;

Even our fights are in shades of yellow.

The warmth of my heat mixed with your cool blue,

In fields of green, I’m picking dreams.

The look in my eyes and that dimple when you smile.

I want out of this place.

Give me the real thing.