Indiana
Floating on the dirty water
The sun beaming on my skin
His smile almost just as bright
Digging through rocks
Trying to find the perfect blue
To match his ocean eyes
My cheeks hurt from laughing so much
Cold beer takes my nerves away
He kisses me on the forehead
A painting of Italy hanging on the wall
The sun starting to fall
My walls along with it
Oh, how it feels to finally have
Someone look at me
The way I look at them
One thought on "Indiana"
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The digression to a painting in Italy is intriguing—adds a timelessness to this authentic poem.