36.

Deep and red, impossible to see through-hiding the other side, with no way out hinted at or shown.

It’s there, resting and ready to rest, willing to rest, hoping to rest. Before taking everything and drowning it beautifully beneath its curves and cover. It sings and screams and pokes and provokes. Dangerously seductive without even trying.

Nothing looks lost when it loses its way, colours pale and wash and it takes over light. But darkness can’t cover the gleaming bouquet, silent and sulking until touched by dry lips.

It’s love and lust and desperation all stacked high, tempting you to fall into its warm, slow embrace. And you take it, knowing you can’t control what it gives, but you take it and know it’s all that you want.

Desire is truth but truth always hurts.

So consume and quieten the noise.

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