Red on white; a taint, a mark;
like 'love' written out in
blood.
Feels like cashmere slipping
through slender long manicured
fingers; a gasp; O, a gasp.
A whisper; a sigh; a soft gasp of
contentment, imagining his touch.
O, red on white--white that has
now faded to ochre; like mustard;
like custard; smeared on the edges of
the red, on the white--feels like
cashmere but cold and icy; chilly.
A finality.

I forgot now, why I bought
the red on the white;
Or perhaps, I do remember;
for I bought it just
for you; but
you did not notice.
And as with all;
you did not care.