the color of her dress, when you dip her in the middle of the dancefloor.
when she whispers in your ear, its the color of her lips.
when she places her palm over your heart, it is the color that comes to the surface as her fingertips trail like a sentence that can never be finished.
when you smash the vase in the hall, its the color that threatens you to abandon the shattered pieces.
when you scream at the top of tour lungs, it is the color that pierces the atmosphere.
when she hears you, its the color of her pulse.
when you look in her eyes for the last time, it is the fading color of your heat falling to your knees.
its not the color you see when she leaves.
(m.d.)
