he's the colour of sunshine
the glitter he hates,
sparkling in his crinkling eyes

his laugh
is the colour of daisies in november,
teasing the troubled naiad into a state
of pure affection

his kiss
I imagine
is the colour of bliss,
like honey dripping from the lips of queens by the nile

his love,
however
is the colour of water
clear
non-existant.