Maybe I was cyan, the kind of color
that never washed off in the rain.
And I ran my fingers over your face.
[You smiled, and asked me why
my fingers traced tears,
and I wanted to tell you I loved you
in that moment.]
You made me think chestnut,
the kind of brown that hides between your teeth,
and wraps around your wrists.
You said that I was moonlight,
the kind of pale pink that can only be found
hidden in the cherry blossoms,
or deep beneath the stories in the soil.
[Yet, when you paint
swirls of pink into chestnut,
you could see all the colors we become
together.
And we fit, wrapping our fingers together
and never letting go.]
Author notes
You said that happy poetry
was not my forte. Maybe so,
but one Thursday will be Valentine's Day,
and I will wrap my arms around you again.
Kiss you twice.
And you'll laugh
like I could be cyan.
[I'm writing happy. Sometimes, I amaze myself.]
A contest entry
- Bring Your Greatest Valentine Poems by rosepoet.
415 points, ended February 24, 2008, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
...
Comments
-
Beautiful
thanks for your entry.
-
fucking amazing! finally. this is the spirit.
"You made me think chestnut,
the kind of brown that hides between your teeth,
and wraps around your wrists.
You said that I was moonlight,
the kind of pale pink that can only be found
hidden in the cherry blossoms,
or deep beneath the stories in the soil."
I wish I could give you 9024726 applauses, but sigh. 3 will have to suffice.
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