We were red and blue in the rain, numb to the June-gloom skies pounding against our skin and deaf to the demands of the misguided heroes around us.
We held each other hard enough for our rib cages to collide and our hearts to match beat for beat. We’d come to the end of our beautiful mistakes, and for a moment, we stood in solitude against the cries of the forty sirens on a starless night.
With my back to a hundred guns, I let my lips find their way home, sparking warmth between us in the heatless shadows of the Virginia pines. A sniper’s bullet cut through the rain and my hands went loose.
I pulled back, hid the hurt behind a half-smile, before a second shot rang out against the rain and brought me to the pavement.
We fell, hands locked, faces calm, bodies close, our kisses slow and deathless, 'til the only thing left to taste were the remnants of our love in blood and salt.
The rain made our colors run; red, night, and blue.