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The Line - Colour

But we're the greatest, they'll hang us in the Louvre

Down the back, but who cares, still the Louvre - Lorde, Melodrama

The water flows slowly, quietly.

Rays of sunlight reach down and paint the landscape a stunning shade of orange. Rays of sunlight reach down, to paint our skin a remarkable shade of gold.

Like his fingertips brushing my hand, the sunlight brushes the green leaves all around, framing the vista as though it were a painting.

Facing him, I realise he is my preferred painting. Eyes squinted in the sun, chocolate irises now revealing specks of honey, like the smooth skin of his neck, trailing down and disappearing under blue cotton.

The warmth of the sun causes a calm to fall over me. I take a deep breath and smell the green, the water, the earth. My eyes close.

Now all I feel is the warmth, both from the sky, and from his arm against mine, fingers intertwined at the end.

I feel him slowly lean over, breath glistening over my lips, before I'm enveloped and overwhelmed. His hand squeezes mine as he pulls away, in reassurance, in trust.

His lips like soft peaches.