Suddenly,
God's dry erase crumbles off our skin
Exposing identity and original sin,
But for what?
The hours overwritten
To write another new,
That will become another overwritten
To be once again renewed.
My love is a clean slate,
And we paint the canvas with our skin.
Our heart is our palette
Our tongue is our brush,
Our eyes of no use
Our lips better hushed.
So we found our gold
In a patch of green
With red in our cheeks
And blue in the sky.
A sole white balloon
Wanders and drifts
Flowing with the current
Of those misty ships,
But that sea is of nothing
Only mirrored glass.
These kisses are locked
With the strands of your hair
And your licking your lips
Because we're truly on air.
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