Popped Knuckles

I want to take the skin from the the back top part of your neck

All the way past your shoulder blade

And make a comforter out of it. 

...but not in a way that makes me sound like a murderer. 

I want to paint your back with a sky full of stars

Because it is a perfect canvas

And the freckles align perfectly. 

This poem is about: 
Me
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