I Have Painted Her Waist

By the light simply at night. I did not write this because of your hot lips open kissing. I saw thunderstorm and clouds over the horizon. I see mixed light and periods of darker grey. In between her heart squeezed is pushed up. Free from restraint. The oceans of silence I wade right up to your knees. And kiss your deepest secret. Coughing I cough up bubbles of youth. Kiss by kiss open lips such hot flowers. Flowers deep as wells the empty hand moves back into the sea when it is again freed. Being yourself if I ever so still 'moons shadow'. What does she think I have painted her waist. Still in sleep. Whom can change the joy of color without season.