Violet

Original Poetry
I guess I fell in love
with the art of conversation.
People watching.
Morning coffees
and late night teas.
I liked the way
his mouth curved
before he kissed me.
Maybe the way
the sun danced around
the room,
and a flurry of halos
illuminated the table tops.
Or perhaps I just fell in love
with the sensation of his lips on my ear,
his breath on my skin
as he whispered my name,
whilst I watched a pink sky
blend into
violet.
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