It was chianti, black as ripe olives,
its bitter blood staining that curl of upper lip.
The candle danced amber about your brow,
and so, across the red checkered cloth.
How large your eyes then,
how deep the darkness there.
Garlic, basil, somewhere a concertina,
the scent of your hot hunger,
and when he asked our pleasure,
we tipped and slipped away.
~

your passion makes me sigh {with envy, or something :)}
..How large your eyes then.. I get the impression of a past romance, remembered wistfully. as good as your last, and the one before that.
flicker
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oh you paint the atmosphere so vividly and intimate. Written to perfection! :-) ~ audee
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ooh, this is so very nice! what a love! :) justme
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you painted a perfect picture here! m.e.