Above my skin



Brushes and colors may not be my tools

but come under blankets and see what sheets can do.

It could be the sunset

but it was not;

It was the sound of a soul

who had its heart sold.

My skin seems to be marked

by all your past mistakes

but there’s nothing I regret –

more – than covering them up.

You were the sun –

And you set me on fire.


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