The city sits above your eyes,
in dark mascara strokes.
Your soft pink lips are chapped and tried
unglossed, and un-baroque.
The flowers of a gardenβs growth
are painted on each iris.
The laughter and the sadness, both
are on your cheeks that i kiss.
Your body sparkles, freckles brushed
are baked in your warm skin.
A bellybutton slightly pushed
by Godβs last touch, thumb pin.