she tasted like sorrow, and the color you get when you mix pretty myrtle green and storm cloud gray.  

what perplexed me the most was that
despite her celadon elemental taste, her lips were fiery warm to the touch.  

when i put the proverbial cup down and opened my atramentous eyes, she was grinning slightly.  

her own eyes glittered like the ocean i had come to visit most days in her giggles and words. but the sea’s backdrop was the apocalyptic-esque orange-crimson death of Ra.  

it was almost like they were speaking to me as she wiped her rosy lips.  

what a beautiful language to learn.