the paths leading to everywhere gleam onyx as the night in your daytime eyes.
the sky like your warm-milk skin, nighttime flecked with the brown sugar stars of your freckles.
flowers bloom in the delicate pink of your lips; every garden is an homage to your kiss,
every petal like your strawberry-preserve tongue on a stem.
i would never want for a life of technicolor bore,
if the world was painted in this palette of yours.