Pray.
Soundless, descending
Displaying beautiful upon your cheek
Rosy white.
Clear.
A hundred metaphors upon that cheek.
And a thousand more, drifting graces.
Silence.
It looked so much more beautiful
Pure.
Romanising with
A clearer white. Than snow.
It nestled on your lash.
Above your cheek.
Wrestled off by inevitability.
Perhaps.
You wanted to fall.
To be baptised again.
Pedestrian blasphemy.
You were the lady in red.
My love
My deeper shade of white.
