We wait for the excuse of liquid courage.
Pretend your lips on my pulse
don't feel better
than the blood pumping through.

In the dark I can almost taste-
the way our energy jumps
from palm to palm.
The way the sun's Ray's line
my questioning mind.

In the black of 3am,
your hand finds my thigh
and the ceiling above us
is washed in oranges and pinks.

I'm always, always thinking-
at least vaguely-

Do you see it? Do you see it?

How the words silhouette in mauve
across my laughter.
Collapse in periwinkle
Under your lashes.

Do you see it? Do you see it?

All that color-
Flowering in the shadows.

5am. The birds chirp
in cerulean blues.
But your car is grey,
And you're putting on your shoes.