My Yellow Paint


I heard this rumor once that Vincent Van Gogh ate yellow paint
because he thought it would make his insides happy
and although I never found out if it was true
if I had a yellow paint, it would be you.

We were driving down the highway one night
the stars shining brilliantly down upon us
but even they were no match to the way your laugh
illuminates the universe in every possible way

You are soft and gentle with me
to you, I am fine china and you make me feel delicate
you are iridescent and every time we talk
I find some new facet of you to love

You tuck white asters behind my ear
and kiss me while we sit on slate colored rocks
and skip stones on the water
and laugh at how bad I am at it

You are my favorite work of art
You are my favorite time of day:
right at dawn, and it dawns on me

You never make me worry about if you love me back
and even if there's nothing to smile about
I am always smiling because
you are my yellow paint.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem