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