dark has the quality of

With a glance
sideways, a mouth like a
Picasso was whispering
sweet nothings.
You move towards me.

Eyes, those black
waterways, they ripple
in their imaginings
of me and the sheets satin
becoming skin,
skin becoming dark.

With one swift
movement, you are there,
my arms held down like
our wrists are one bruise
joined. I breathe,
“you can do anything to me.”

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