Her Lips are Dark

Her lips are dark,
With the stain of the season's
First blackberries,
Plucked from their dew-dropped homes,
By eager, reverent hands.
Her lips are dark,
With the kiss,
Of a dark moon rose,
Trailing over her skin.
Full of promises, a lover in the night
Full of dreams, nestled in satin sheets.
Her lips are dark,
With the whisper of death,
Circling, calling, crying,
Bliss and passion now gone,
Lost to otherworld dreams.

-C-