he fixed my knee high socks and i noticed how his cheeks were a rosy red and how his dark eyelashes are delicate strokes against a blank canvas, his smirk is indefinite splatters of amethyst and coral watercolor. he's the whole of creativity, he is art. and art is suppose to be safely protected and not touched but i crave him so badly and i need him. i pushed him back and straddled him, i looked in his eyes and i saw all the art he truly holds and with that, i pressed my lips against his and like an artist does their canvas, we created something then.