Photo subject to Copyright by the Author
A faint whisper saying, paint me in red.
Your eyes, like dark blue pieces of scrap paper,
Are similar to mine, yet lack the facility to see.
The mimicry of last requests before the pink sky turns to black.
Script for me your secret thirsts.
As I lie my head down upon your chest,
Listening closely to the repetition of your heart beating,
As if I was a child hearing a fairy tale for the first time.
Scribble away an image for me,
So I may understand the missive.
The meaning of two bodies connecting,
As we branch out together as one.
The fruits of our tree become ripened.
And I,
Your tributary to paint in red.
Poet's Corner 