Love love love

Ours is like withered flowers
Because whenever I see my dark circles
Or freshly painted bruises spreading over my canvas 
I see violets blooming 

 

Love love love

 

Ours is like licking flames
Because whenever I look into your eyes
Or feel the warmth of your touch leaving burn marks 
I remember who painted me 

 

Love is not love at all
And I guess I'm beginning to see
That violet is your favorite color
And I am your masterpiece