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Amor
Love is purple, but amor is red.
Red as the candle wax,
Still left on the window sill after last winter,
As the gentle blush of your cheeks
After a long day in the sun,
As the rustic wallpaper in the lady’s bedroom
Of an old, grand mansion.
Red as the lipstick that I wear
That comes off after mere minutes,
As the chipped-away nail polish
Still present on my fingernails,
As the bricks that I count
While I wait for you.
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Love poem? Synesthesia poem? Who knows!