les couleurs

I’m not sure if it is something in the atmosphere, your eyes, or where your head is at in that particular moment, but sometimes the colours just pop more, you know? I appreciate those moments. They fuel the imagination. I want to kiss you now. I want to kiss you and then have you wipe your red lipstick off my lips with your thumb and a smile. Watching me with eyes a colour so deep and rich that I’m not convinced it should exist in nature. But it exists. Only for you. And for me. Today I stare at the sky, marveling at the brightness of the blue. The clouds look like a map of the places I want to go. With you. Always with you. And tonight. And every night for us, I want to watch the light dance around you. Wanting to land, but feeling unworthy. Maybe. I’m a dreamer. But that’s okay. You can teach a dreamer to be more realistic when needed. It doesn’t work the other way around. Never. It can’t. Love, I don’t want a woman who woos in poetry, but lives in prose. I want to make the colours pop for you too. Take my hand. Let’s have a stolen dance in leaves of orange and yellow. And that familiar red.





photo credit: coloneljohnbritt via photopin cc

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