red
the fabric paints ellipses, on the borders of your hips, that slip under the waterline, so nobody can see.
the line of red that stands between, my body and your skin, a barrier my hands, can cross clandestinely.
and then the red was pooling, on the floor beside my bed, and i wanted just to drink you, but back then you made me wait.
and ever since that day, i nearly got to take a sip, there's been a thirst in me for you; that no-one can satiate.
so i still daydream sometimes, of those red ellipses, and your skin pressed hard to mine, and the summers gentle breeze.
and the whispered words we said, and the colour of the red, on the floor beside my bed, and the want i can't appease.
