CRAYON…

I’d profile
A smile
I’d formulate-
Strawberries, as my tongue for taste
I’d form
Dances; as weather-they’d storm
Lightning and thunder would gyrate across the sky
Two left feet would rhythm it’s rain of cry
Residue
Would be of a joyous misconstrue
Of what people think they know about you
Streets would be sweet,
To flavor-
The labor
Of my trying feet
I’d describe
Dreams; as dreams- being the bride
And be married to my soul-
Cheat on it with my- my hopes-my goals
I’d design
An extra twenty-four hours to a day’s time
I’d outline
The finding, right before losing my mind
I’d mark stars
Not so far
And just sketch
The shooting ones-in a catch
I’d engrave
Sweeping the autumn stars off the pave-
Excuse me, the pavement
And map them out as nature’s intent
I’d paint
Happiness across my face, in a jilted faint
And compose love, without penciled, contingency
If I could draw, my crayon, would mark life as my chemistry
Crayon would portray my intimacy

~TanishaB

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