Each night she fell into dreams….
they were black and white and colored in red
At times more of a dark metallic and shiny red.
The kind of red that is oxygenated blood refracting street lamps
and pooling pavements with a fresh chalk-lined body running through it.
RED WAS EVERYTHING TO HER.
The color of lips, and the taste of kisses.
The way she felt when the sky was collapsing.
The flash before it turns white then to black spots in her mind.
The color of the back of her lided eyes
when she presses them shut as she’s falling into pools of passion.
She would dream, through the veins in her eyes, of lush languid layers.
Laced hips and rouge tints stroked by her sating fingertips.
Touching upon the chaotic ribboned bondage of heresy.
Visual images would swish, into seductive melodic composition
as he rested beside the body her mind occupied;
transfixed and stirred to wonder by it.
The more he wondered, the less he knew.
And the more he thought he knew,
the more she would make him realize that he should keep on wondering
-about everything and nothing