Roses are Red

Roses are red,

a color reserved 

for fire and passion,

burning inside 

when you kiss 

my eager lips

and that space 

between my 

shoulder blades

that weaken my knees, 

licks of flames 

and passion 

shooting up my spine 

in shades of pink tingles 

and crimson lust.

 

Violets are blue,

the color of sky

and sea, the depth

of which your faith 

beckons to me like

beacons of light

shooting upward

so that God Himself

can see your steadfast

love calming the

seas of my turbulent life

with the expertise

of your quiet demeanor

painted in cobalt trust

and cyanic wisdom.

 

Sugar is sweet,

the same way your lips

taste when I kiss them,

your upper lip caught

between mine as I 

tease with my tongue,

your hands roving

as if lost in the thruway

of my body undulating

against yours, but not lost

since I've etched each part

of you into my mind's eye

just to catch a glimpse

of the perfection 

of your beauty.

 

And so are you,

fervid with all

I can offer, a passion 

so red it burns you 

with delicious desire

and so blue it drowns 

you in the consuming

depths of my love 

where you will always

find me wrapped 

in the beauty

of who you are.

This poem is about: 
Me

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