Bliss

Perhaps she is a masterpiece Botticelli’s Venus Galileo would have loved The galaxy hidden between her ribs Perhaps she is a sinner Who sets fire to your mind With her technicolor words Fragile like glass Perhaps she is poetry With tinkling laughs And metaphors in her veins Perhaps she is a beautiful mess With a dead heart that aches for some angel And sad eyes that no one understands A corpse with a restless soul Sewn together by rose lips A living work of art