our colors run
into deep black

your blue
eyes meet
my green

subtle ivory
blushes pink
with the imprint
of your touch

curled strands of
gold, bronze, copper
secured tightly
in your hand

ice-gray sheets
twist beneath coverlets of
crimson, ochre, aqua
wrap around feet
and hold down limbs
searching release
from bonds

music in soft hues
of sienna, chestnut,
and caramel
sift through the air
muffling false protests

the magenta feather
the sterling implements
the tawny candle
smelling of vanilla

which we are not

dancing shadows
punctuate the amber glow

and the sounds are hardly words

they take on the qualities
of sight, smell, taste, touch

clear sweat
the last thing I witness
dripping down your neck
onto the pillow

I close my eyes
to black
breathe in the sweet
and sour
salt of the body

swimming in the ether
of sensory overload
and absence of thought

utterly spent

This has been a Wicked Wednesday post.  Click HERE to see who else is being wicked this week.

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