purple and yellow (edited 8/20)

my purple dress in hand, unwashed
held to my face
and i breathe
new york city air,
new york city days and nights
taxi cabs
chocolate and
yellow rooms filled with light.

you you you
the yellow mornings playing across
your naked back
and a hopeful look 
betraying the dreams on the backs of your eyelids.
there’s nothing like watching you sleep,
your breath a reminder of the passing seconds
and the eternity your body and mine
seem to create in the purple darkness.

this dress
is nothing here against my skin.
i would rather wear your presence,
hold your face against mine
and take in your scars, the soft arch of your eyebrows.
i would rather absorb the way your smile
plays hide and seek with me
concealing itself behind your lips
and blossoming, 
stretching like a sunrise to touch your eyes
and heal the  yellow/purple bruises
inflicted by the world on my heart.