Blood is the color of my rose,

that's you

my flower.

Red rivers of it flow for you.

Red are the lips which speak to you,

for love is surely crimson too.

Red is the heart which beats for you

surging,

pulsating for you.

I cut my hand,

bite my lip

have your children,

post my burgundy earrings,

apply red nail polish

and toe paints,

wall decorate,

all red-hued

on our deep glowing nights.

You’re dark mystery

swelling inside my boundaries,

speaking to

that need in me;

my Reds.

You excite me.

I smell you now.

I can feel you walking to me.

I see you in my corner eye.

We are two:

Yellow Love

in the Hammock

outside,

in the deep deep sun

both in the womb.