In the velvet hush
of tangerine light,
thoughts creep like mycelium,
trendrilling through synapses,
until fingertips tingle,
and the leading edge,
of a tender red lip
is self-bitten.
She tucks a brunette ribbon
behind the mauve flush
that has crept past her cheeks.
A twinkle, the way glints
dance atop water,
like mischievous nymphs,
plays in her soul's windows.
Her sighs caress
even the candle flames,
sending a shiver through
the playful gray smoke,
until it longs to be made
colorful.
Desire pools in her palms,
warm and ready.
She reaches,
delicate hands enveloping
the peak's obsidian bounty.
The soft yielding flesh
surrenders
to her mouth,
juices staining twilight,
leaving a vibrant crimson
where flesh touched flesh,
the heart of summer
devoured.
She smirks,
tossing away the pit,
"and if there's no body,
there's no crime".