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.