Love is rain on an autumn afternoon,
pulsating with vivid, melting hues.
Its presence soaks my vision,
causing brightly colored leaves
to drizzle from branches above,
and cover me like spilling paint.
My love, you are a clove cigarette,
tangy with hints of orange.
I draw in your spiced breath,
allow it to fill my lungs and body,
then exhale between my teeth to
appreciate your tingle upon my lips.
You are a bright red bass drum,
my love, thumping with vibrant tempo.
I tap fingers upon your stretched skin
to feel your deep rhythms throb,
and sway my hips to your pulse,
perceiving your meter in my limbs.
Love is a cup of green tea,
sweet with steaming scents of honey.
It engulfs my tongue,
drips slowly down my throat,
forms a pool in my belly,
and sends heat waves through my bones.
