Analog Aesthetics

painted lilies
giving way to
(green-red-green)
roses piled upon
(empty)
fields, where
a delicious wind
escapes (just before)
the darkened sky
opens above
our heads
and showers (our bare
shoulders with)
heavy drops
I lick from your forehead
to (the tip of) your
nose
in a salty line
and your fingernails scramble
across (remote patches of) skin
on my lower
back
(to tease into) laughter
and our blankets
are soaked
(to the bone)
but the blossoms are
m e l t i n g ,
(coloring our) faces
in their fragrance