there is a softness in the scent of blood oranges and pomegranates that peeks from the crook of your neck when you hide timidly in salmon pink lavender fields and sink your toes into rosemary sands.
you lay beside me as i trace meadows of honeyed roses across the expanse of your threadbare skin, eyes fluttering feverishly as the sun melts to nectar, basking your arteries in a palette of molten orange.
~
