The sweet tang of your kiss stains my lips like blackberry juice. The union forces droplets of the deepest lust to run down my neck, landing on my breast. Your lips are like the blackberry, deep crimson, rough and wild. The juice from your succulent fruit burns my mouth as I bite down on the seeds. Seeds of love, seeds of destruction, so many beginnings which can have no end. Your thorns and nettles sting me as I gather up the morsels of your fractured soul, child-like, no thought to the wounds which you deal me.
As we part, my skin remains dappled by the stain of your desire. It sinks into my flesh, it courses through my veins. I cannot wash it off, the invisible dye which permeates my being and caresses my soul.
You are so beautiful. I wear your smell like a beloved cardigan. Your kiss lingers on my tongue like wine. Your touch scars my skin. Let me feel the bittersweet sting of your lust against my skin just once more; let me feel your silken touch, your blossom kiss.
I know you cannot be mine. Your desire alone cannot sustain me. So I content myself with the burgundy traces that you left on my soul.
