The Line - Pink

I've been seeing angels

In my living room

That have walked the sun

And have slept on the moon - Khalid, American Teen

Rosebuds. That's what I'm reminded of when my eyes fall to them.

Pink, full, blooming.

The way they curve upwards into a smile as I trace the curve of his cheek, my touch like a feather.

They part so slightly, in anticipation, when I brush the tip of my nose against his. The playful pout that they form when I pull back.

It's grey outside today. The air still, the sky white.

No colours could catch my eye, even if I wanted them to.

Instead, I admire the stark contrast that I see on his face.

The wheatish bronze of his soft olive skin.

His thick chestnut hair.

The dark chocolate of his gleaming eyes.

His pale puffy tear bags.

Outside, today, it is cold. But here, with strong arms around me, warm hands settled on my lower back, eye to eye, torso to torso, it is warm.

Safe and sound, where there is no sound, but breathing.

Quickly I decide, slowly I act, closing the gap. Until our minds act for us.

And his lips.

Delicate, tender.

In full bloom.