Poetry: Rose Tinted Glasses

I see the world not in black and white

But in pink and grey

All your softness and beauty glowing in the candlelight

Your hair riffling and flying over peach-coloured skin in two tones

Rosy sheets and soft warm things, that don’t go bump in the night

But put a jump in my bones and tickle my ribs and toes

Giver and given, guiding each other to pleasures ever so slow

By secret maps and wayfinders that we only pretend to properly know

What we’re doing, or brewing as hot water implies and rising from a dusty kettle

Steam on grey tiles and grey fog in misty mornings

The bright white of moonlight casts not a black and white but a purple-red glow

If only you could all see the world as I do

Wearing Rose Tinted Glasses

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