drops of jupiter

BROWN

midnight, you were obsidian in the flesh. the swirl of your stygian irises—i dip swan feathered quills into them, spilling your soul's inked words onto the parchment of my skin.

born from the earth; you were conceived by mother nature, cut from sun glazed bark in the amazon of peru.

my morning coffee is tinged darker to match your mahogany skin: dipped in the sun's atramentous shadows.

son of the sun, you are dripping in menacing sunrise, caster of aphotic shadows and i ache for a taste of the darkness.

knight of the night, you are the sheath, enclosing me in a cloak of your skin. melted chestnut, so soft, like sweet caramel on the tip of my tongue.

fear of the dark—i wrap myself in it now, imagining it is your own limbs i am tangled in. i lay awake in the somber hours of the night, gazing at your face in the velvet sky, my burning cheek cupped in my palm. oh! how i wish that i was granted the power to be bound to the night, to feel you in the sheets of blackness that is cloaked around the dome of the universe.

i coloured the light strands descending from my scalp (a canvas crying to be painted) and now i am a raven of the night.

you are no longer beside me and here i am, sprawled across the grass with soil in my fingernails, the same earthly colour as your skin.