cr: kysta

cr: kysta

Violet twilight, peaches and lavender

are scattered across the skies. Burning

at the bottom is orange fire, flowing

like lava — a poet’s dream

Setting the sun to sleep, fading lower,

downwards until tomorrow. Yellow lights

flick on one by one, above the cars which

line the street, emerging are sound waves

of the city. I watch from the window,

putting on the diamonds you gave me

Silk is soft, fingers are caught in the laces

under ultramarine moonlight, scent of

magenta and rose perfume