Rainbow of Sins by MuseWithScissors

Kisses with licorice and pomegranate juices, Lips swollen, barely walking,
Rosy scratches down your back seeping the finest beads of blood,
matching the color of my holiday sweater crumpled on your heated floor.
The sun, as it sets, goes unnoticed
as we scan timelines and want
what everyone else seems to have but doesn’t.
Mimosa and sorbet mornings fall on cloudy days,
yet we know the sun still rises.
We add to our wishlists and admire chrysanthemums
for their simplicity.
Your sticky notes cover the mirror
that doesn’t always look back nowadays,
“Paint the walls with your radiant words.”
“You got up today!”
“You are enough.”
Watching these notes dampen
and fall to the floor feels like lemon
rubbed on my razor burnt legs at the spa.
Instead, we could use the pulp to replenish
if either one of us decides to leave - lips, teeth,
tongue - cleaned and ready
for the next set of lie