Red velvet
Midsummer nights
Your body, and my own.
Lips are real
When form is not;
The weight of a soul, with pleasure I drown.
Memories of things greater
Rival Ivy in green,
As you poison my heart, my voice taken.
The moment, condensed,
To ambrosia; an opus,
Where one final breath in parting, leaves my love, ever hoping.
