Crimson
Crimson is the color of our passion, anyone can see it, but nobody knows.
For a moment I tasted his lips smeared with hopes and dreams
The Devil’s concoction, in which he presented himself to me
I now ask myself….was he even a reality?
Pictures painted consistently with each swift stroke of the hand
I know we’re both created by God, but who is this man?
Visions of intimacy no longer belong to me
In his eyes I know I’m not yet what he perceives
And I ask myself….was I even a reality?
Buttermilk kisses and the caress of his fingers
My womanly juices flowing but the sensations still lingered
The desire was a will, is a will, or rather my testament
A low cry of the mouth let him know what I ment
And this is seriously affecting my everyday thoughts of reason
He binded my hands with chains……this sexual demon
With every breath my body exhausts and I fall at the knees
Menacingly my eyes light up, hungrily I aim to please
At the sight of our two bodies, it almost looks like a maze
Entwined as two lovers should indulging for days
The fire is now dwindling but the heat still remains
Crimson is the color of our passion….it drives me insane
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