you have a burning orange taste like the room lit with forest. dark and sequin patterns of lust. my darling, i look at you and i dissolve, a cape of Ganges. From your cheeks, i sip dews of dusk. and i worship you like a dreamcatcher, praying for your lucid footsteps, A soft murmur inside a winter room. cigarette lips and pink nails. in your shadow of Auburn smoke, lips wet like a half-baked moon. let me trace your lavender skin, a filament of my springs.