Sutros at Midnight

Washed upon my dress
lifted, worn and pale
a spray of blue or seafoam
caught the eucalyptus breeze-
a zephyr of your breath.
I clambered up the cliffs in heels
you chased in boots, laughing
and caught my hand, spun
a dangerous midnight chase.
CliffHouse, ruins, seaside
you in your ambition
stole sixteen years of purity
in one consuming gaze.
Beneath the watercolored moon
you pressed emeralds, gold into my palm
folded me into your arms
and beneath your black coat I found
a sure and steady warmth.

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