October in Washington (Sept 2017)

Pale shades of blue
Danced in your eyes
As your skin glowed in the light of the TV.
I kissed your lips,
And they tasted like smoke.
A taste I had come to crave just like
I crave your fingers tracing the curve of my
thighs.
You are the kind of art that makes me feel
as if I exist somewhere greater than this
snow globe world,
With its people monotonously living.
An exemplary display of soft and jagged
lines,
Your colors changing with each shade of
light,
Oceanic eyes,
Windows to a sea
that I could lose myself in its storms for an
eternity.

I stepped outside
After that night
to a brisk, gray morning.
Your shirt shrouded me in your
Trademark scent of clean linen.
The sun shone down in patches
As calico leaves fell to the ground.
It was like October in Washington.

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