Colour

Let us talk in rapid bursts of colour, you and I.

Like ripe mangoes bursting out of their skin in our hands,
the juice running streams down our
elbows.
Like the brief fury of red in the air,
when someone throws gulaal at you in the frenzy of holi.
Like the first time we kissed in a dark stairwell,
and it was crap, and I said so-
The words tumbling out of my mouth
and into your big eyes, which took no offence
but looked lazy back at me, smiling ‘Then teach me’.
So I did, and it wasn't much better-
but there were stars exploding underneath my eyelids
As i felt your warm mouth,
hesitantly touch
mine.

We have:

gnarled, veiny hands and forearms,

(and feet too, from too much walking),

an interest in the blues,

a propensity for hedonism,

a love for the written word,

an appreciation of beauty in stretches of untamed road,

contrasting views of the world,

and an unceasing fascination with each other.

- dug up an old tidbit I’d scribbled sometime earlier this year. Inspired by something Shalmi said.