The Orgasm of Blue

Author Miss Parisia B.

“But I shame you more than I appreciate you and that’s not love.”

Along the way, we started to enjoy this disharmonious bliss. So scared to be alone, and genuinely unaware of the dying warmth beneath our palms. I thought I would live to love you, but now every mouthful is choking on maybes. There is no right way to become one. Yet still, we fall out of love just to find each other once again. It’s too soon to say anything; however, we make plans for eternity and rekindle before dusk.

I was driving home alone. It had been a few unsettling weeks without you or sight of a beautiful sky. But tonight, my eyes held onto the falling of dusk. Its downfall eluded the beauty of orange and the orgasm of blue. It had never crossed my mind to compose art, highlighting my love for you. The butterflies, our walks, the swinging and screaming, death, life to new memories, the heart-pounding rhythm that plays when you ring. I can never wipe the stupid grin off of my face when it comes to you.

But I shame you more than I appreciate you, and that’s not love. I believe there is something profound inside of me that is pure. This part of me loves you. This part of me looks to a God made sky and thinks of you. Not self, nor life, but you, my love.
That is how beautiful I think you are.


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