Last night, I could see all of them. Every shade of deep red melding together with orange and yellow until they gave way for the dark blue and purple and pink that follow a sunset. The vermilion of the wine and the scarlet of the strawberries, the juice sticky on fingers and mouths. The rose of the blush on your cheeks and the way your mouth reminded me of a dahlia, reddened from our kisses. Even the slight contrast between the color of our skin as you held me in your arms, cinnamon against alabaster.
Listening to that song and thinking of the way you whispered to me.