Shades of Purple

purple kisses

a bruised hue, molted– mulberry

smudged–dried with a thick sangria–

red wine–a vineyard of ripe grapes–

underneath the tempting aroma

lingers the capricious crimson crusted stains–

a dove drenched in indigo–

its wings flapping–splattering…spluttering…spaying droplets of congealing…

Dionysus–the greek god of revery and stomped-on-fruits-of-the-vine

whispers to me as I become lost in my red cup–

“Lick your lips as you say my name–

it lingers, the droplets cling to you–

desperate to intoxicate you with my potion–”

P…p…p.

What comes first?–Pain, pleasure–pining

Ancient eyes, black like licorice–

He makes me forget as the sun sets

and the sky pretties a pretty pink–magenta

and rapture crawls from my deepest depths.

This fever inside of me!–

It burns!

An inferno wrecks havoc in my body–

contorting, what is he doing to me?

My skin itches–my head–oh! my head!

Rock, rock–hold me tight–

“Lick the wine from my lips–

Lust for me–

Green vines cling–tighten–rub

Shades of wisteria against my arms drenched in thistle,

foliage crinkles underneath his sandals–

and I scream

as purple becomes the only thing I see…

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