The Art Of Love

By Akshay Sunil

You turned me into an artist,

Holding a painting brush in his wrist.

Eager to paint on your chest,

Turning it into a canvass, for it’s best.

From where to start, I’m waiting for you to guide.

Shall I start from the shoulder on the right side?

Or maybe I will start from the mole which you always wanted to hide.

Stretch your shoulder, a bit more wide.

Here it begins, on your neck, the wet brush slips.

I need something sharp, can I have your clips?

Forgot the crimson red, can I take it from your lips?

It needs some waves, shall I take it from your hips?

Me and my brush, moving in relentless pace.

As if we are in some painting race.

Finished the art, let me have a gaze.

It looks splendid! Shall I keep it in a showcase?

Or rather shall I destroy it with my face?

By Akshay Sunil