The color of Love

House of Heart

In the alcove she sips dark coffee, her eyes sting from cigarette smoke permeating the cafe. Still she is compelled to search the tree lined boulevard where branches become hawks, their whistling wings a silky blue. Few faces can be seen theough the mist but the sweet language of lovers fill the air.
Submerged in those warm sighs soundless tears overflow in silvery streaks.
He gently tastes the salt on her lips, still burning from the kiss of yesterday’s lover. Sweet blossoms leave a crush of salt on his tongue. The splendor of her thighs, the shape of her milky white breasts is a dim memory now.
Without a goodbye a rose is placed into her open palm to fade over time like the color of love.

Gustav Klimt

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