You are my Work of Art
By: AlmightySponge
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I don't own Death Note
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When I touch you, a white mask can, at last, bloom with colour.
I paint you with emotions. The longing in your eyes, the tremble in your voice, the flush in your cheeks
These parts of you I find so breath taking, if only because I am the master of them. I, alone, hold your key.
When you exist, at a standstill, you are disgusting and stale. I don't want to look at you. But when you are dying, you are living, and every breath you take is my brushstroke.
Even places on you, in you, that I can do nothing for, can be manipulated and polished. It isn't sex when it's love. It isn't sex when it's art.
Colours only I can give you, places only I can touch.
I hate you.
Until I love you.
You are my Work of Art.
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It's a poem about Mello's attraction to Near. I hope you enjoy it.