My artist eye destroys you,
picks out every pit of your skin,
the way your lips dominate your face,
or the rough texture of your back.
My lover eye forgives you,
glosses over the physical flaws,
and instead picks up on the depth from your eyes.
Or how when you're alone next to me,
your form changes in context.
You pray and your chest sinks in,
your collarbone screaming against your flesh.
It makes you look so frail
when you surrender your mind to God.
But once your hands break and you cross,
you roll over towards me and you're powerful.
Shoulder's broaden and you are my protector.
Like blood has invigorated your soul.
You are spider's silk.
Strong as any steel made by man,
but if the right fingers touch you,
you will break.
