garden

i cant paint, so i will write about being unable to paint...

watercolor fingertips
caress my face
paint myself into this place
one square inch at a time
take a brush and follow me
its so beautiful here, but lonely
dont go
dont go wandering
dont go wandering into the blue
the singing trees will get you
the forest is alive
my red pencil bones
are brittle, weak
my skin becomes the canvas
cell after cell after cell
take up your palatte with me
we can make ourselves better
dont leave
dont leave so soon
dont leave so soon into the blue
the singing trees will get you
the forest wants your eyes