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
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: