A touch of yellow and a taste of red, my body is numb from the bottom of my soul to my exposed chest. Touch, taste, and smell. A sheet of silk wrapped around my head. I sound dark and lust the feeling of breathless. There’s a sun-kissed fire burning in my lungs. Smell the scent.

A touch of grey and a taste of black, my heart is charcoal and the blood oxygenating my heart is poor. Touch the beat. Taste the blood. In a white dream my skin is silk. With a moon that’s lonely and my lips soft, my color  becomes satin red. Flushed cheeks, warm hands and the fire is still burning strong. Smell the scent.

A touch of color against my chest, A taste of water wetting my dry sins. I am a paralysis of the mind, and you are the thief of a restless night.

To my heart,

I never stop loving and my eyes never stop giving.

To my black soul,

Do not be ashamed if you are left standing alone – just satisfy your threshold.

Lost in the midst of movement – dark brown eyes tire relentlessly in search of a past. To touch and taste it. Remember what it felt like. Remember you can feel.

Wake.

Awake.

Awakening a clump of love, sandwiched in the chest and yet the body is still seizing.

In that gown you were delicate. You were blue, it was delicate. Sensitive red. The most sensual black eyes so giving.

The year of last was the aftermath of a year old earthquake. Remember the feeling of loss, of white heat radiating across every inch of my body. You were difficult and I was careless.  I let you in the heart carefully. But then I sunk deep into calm moments and we were in movement, but it ended in chaos of a heart.

Shivering.

Alone.

Fingers tracing.

Lips searching for sufficient blood.

Failing.

End stage and very frail.

Change is always a good thing and it happens consistently. In the moment it may be cold, and cruel to our needs. But as a chapter new begins and distance builds a different fortress to hide in, eventually we realize the lesson nestled in that change. May it be a rose losing its beauty or a heart that stops beating.

Shaking intimate feelings and breaking the silence. 2010. Single tears use to visit these eyes but in the absence of a year and love, these eyes wanted hard to cry but the hurt has started to rest in a grave of love.

Sweet, gentle, and delicate love.

A hard black mass is resting.

A hard black mass is resting on the top of that man’s chest.

Yesterday, his story touched my life. The love of his life had died in his arms. And I watched this man tell his story. Relive a past in 29 minutes and at its end, all I could think  about was, will the throbbing in my heart and the tightness in my stomach and your beautiful scent make this life more beautiful or difficult to live in if you passed away.

In dedication to that loving memory, of

Insufficient Blood.

you touched my life and i will never forget…

what true love can feel like.