With every reflection 

I would see myself

And only think of her

Along with the satisfying 

Broken blood vessels

That mirrored the ones she had

I was her canvas and she was mine

Our lips being the paint brushes

With every delicate stroke

There was a temporary masterpiece

Her works were noticed by those who passed

The curiosity drawing their eyes to me

Then to her

We were a mobile gallery 

Each elegant piece on display

Not hidden by the veil that was my hair

For the curtains were pulled back 

The exhibits that were our bodies

were free of admission

We encourage the public eye to observe

The fading reds and purples