your irises are the colour of coal,
dark, brooding, igniting my heart,
with a desire, to writhe in the flames
of your wild sight, of your blazing glare,
.
your voice is the color of crimson roses,
succulent, musical, arousing my skin,
getting a feel of your every word,
mesmerized, by the tremor of your lips,
.
your sanctimonies are the color of muck,
impenetrable, rotten, stabbing my mind,
with the reverberating libels, of your deeds,
and the mouldering state, of your marshy stare,
.
your covetous smile is the colour of lichen ice,
toxic, freezing, breaking me into ruins,
by the hammer, of your ill deliberations,
repulsing me away, from your embrace,
.
you have the wan psyche of a fiend, colourless,
which rests beneath your masquerade,
of an angel, of the saint like eyes and voice, but
I can feel your sinister self, see you for who you are,
.
like you see me in my own colourless colours,
I am no better than you, I am a ravaging beast,
a mess of hues, purple, brown, olive, and blue,
splayed on and against, drenching my being
.
I am tagging it as the poem for 3 November for NaBloPoMo. Also submitting the link for dVerse Poetics.
HA's Place 