Crimson

She eyes me
above water-fill lines
brimming with confidence
and ruby-red smiles
boasting crimson-stained cheeks,
her merriment swirls
by candlelit chimeras
showcasing nuances of red,
bookmarks of who she is.

Slowly, a carmine chant
rotates in her waters,
vermillion-coated,
dark as molasses
enticing lovers
to hold her crystal stem
drowning in ethers,
cherry-kiss high,
chiseled lip low.

Afore the flickered flames
she scans the room
speaking siren tones
to those she’s seduced before
as darker blots of disdain
ripple the glass,
fading claret to onyx feathers
fluttering in miniature
behind glass-cage walls.

Forgetting herself,
she transforms to lost,
blackened tides
where inaction bites,
chewing glass to fractious waves.

She can never be left alone
(not for too long)
or melancholy becomes her:
ill thoughts lace her mind,
torrents of incarnadine swell
like fattened lobsters
in boiling hot pots.

Remembering her coral fiction,
she swirls oxblood globules:
passionate planets
churn to blood-red skies
where possibility invites regard
pouting her pouring lips,
winking a cast-iron eye
to entice a lover.

I watch him drink her in,
intoxicated before a first sip,
lingering afore the hearth
eyeing her as a warm medicinal
before he takes her in hand
caressing her crystal jaws,
a delicate, swanlike neck
holding garnet beads of longing.

Embers ignite
as he takes a first taste;
fiery-orange silhouettes
frame his being
locking him to her –
a bloodshot padlock clasps,
rotating within his frame
whilst he inhales deeper,
lost to scarlet waves,
tussled from rusty tides,
drowning in her puce perfume.

Photo by pawel szvmanski on Unsplash