a short poem about love and colors
|The night. My sweatshirt. You stroking the top of my hand while looking away, while looking up.
I wonder which star it is you are looking at.
I do not ask.
I point and you shake your head.
"I am not looking at a star," you explain, "I am looking at the space between the stars,
wondering what is there in that blackness. It scares me."
I say nothing. Looking behind me, I see navy forming on the horizon. It matches my sweatshirt,
your shoes, my underwear. It doesn't scare me.
Still looking at the navy blue I grasp your left hand in my two hands.
Still looking at the navy blue I kiss your temple, I kiss your neck, I kiss your jaw.
Still looking at the black you kiss my forehead, you kiss my nose, you kiss my lips.
Still looking at the black you pull me into you.