you color-by-number your self in scents the lines that form your clavicle part of a topographic map its valley overflowing with the Amber craved by drowning men at your temples all the Violet of what lies beneath the sharp satin of your smile the Lust that hides your teeth your hair hides a color indescribable from the taste of your scalp it moans not words it does not speak and when you turn they feel the Auburn longing deep in the heels of their feet your nails are Red, your fingers Red, your wrists are Red a melody each tone so complementary and though I close my eyes in hope I hear your colors sing the pain, the Cobalt from your hands falls down me soaking my whole being who are we? I am not Blue you are not Pink our gender is an ocean and we gladly drift out to sea the synesthesia of your words leaves traces of your masterpiece I am in awe not of the rainbows but the perfection of your math from hexadecimal to RGB FFFCCC