... paint in blue and black...sometimes gray - the colors of night - occasionally I surprise you with a mustard yellow, but then, I am a poet ...
John GeddesTag: night black poet blue yellow poetry-quotes gray
Curiosity killed the brat.
Sarah CrossTag: blue kill-me-softly
Mira sat down on the rim of the fountain. The marble ledge was damp, and mist sprinkled her skin. Coins shimmered under the water like fish scales.
She counted them, each one a wish, and wondered how love could be anything but good.
Tag: blue kill-me-softly mira
It freaks me out they're sort of involved, and yet, one day, Viv's stepmom is going to order Henley to kill Viv."
"Tell me about it." Blue switched to an exaggerated shrewish voice. "By the way, garden boy, when you'e done trimming the hedges, could you cut out my daughter's heart and bring it to me so I can eat it? That's a lot to ask of someone you're paying minimum wage.
Tag: blue henley kill-me-softly sarah-cross mira viv
You're - you're something else, someone really special, and I feel completely justified in being in love with you.
Sarah CrossTag: blue kill-me-softly sarah-cross mira
It seared her senses; it made her feel alive, even as it sucked that life away - and she kept coming back to it, again and again. Waves of sensation pulled her under - drowning her. But Blue made drowning feel like the loveliest thing. Like she was losing her breath, but she didn't need it, didn't want it, only wanted him.
Sarah CrossTag: kiss blue kill-me-softly sarah-cross mira
You crazy liar," he said breathlessly.
"You knew I was lying."
"Not to - that degree."
"Okay, so maybe I like you a little.
Tag: blue kill-me-softly sarah-cross mira
He kissed her lightly on the nose, and she laughed. Blue eyed her with faux seriousness. "How was that? Any weakness?"
"No. But I don't think there would have been anyway."
"Well, then, how about this?" His lips brushed hers, his mouth teasing her lower lip, and her eyes closed and she shivered as his fingers caught her hair. And then suddenly, there wasn't any space between them. The sensation of drowning was there, but it wasn't like her strength was leaving her. It was like she wanted to be part of him. Like she didn't know or care where she ended and he began.
When they drew apart, she whispered, "No weakness."
"Really?" he said. "'Cause I'm feeling a little weak." She felt him smile against her mouth. And they both laughed, shook with it. Their faces were too close, noses and cheeks pressed awkwardly together, but neither one of them moved. She tightened her arms around him, and he held her just as tightly. His breath murmured against her cheek.
"You're safe with me, Mira. And I'm safe with you.
Tag: kiss blue kill-me-softly sarah-cross mira
How do you know, when you think blue — when you say blue — that you are talking about the same blue as anyone else?
You cannot get a grip on blue.
Blue is the sky, the sea, a god’s eye, a devil’s tail, a birth, a strangulation, a virgin’s cloak, a monkey’s ass. It’s a butterfly, a bird, a spicy joke, the saddest song, the brightest day.
Blue is sly, slick, it slides into the room sideways, a slippery trickster.
This is a story about the color blue, and like blue, there’s nothing true about it. Blue is beauty, not truth. ‘True blue’ is a ruse, a rhyme; it’s there, then it’s not. Blue is a deeply sneaky color.
After we became a couple, she composed our time together. She planned days as if they were artistic events. One afternoon we went to Tybee Island for a picnic; we ate blueberries and drank champagne tinted with curacao and listened to Miles Davis, and when I asked the name of her perfume, she said it was L'Heure Bleue.
She talked about 'perfect moments.' One such moment happened that afternoon; she'd been napping; I lay next to her, reading. She said, 'I'll always remember the sounds of the sea and of pages turning, and the smell of L'Heure Bleue. For me they signify love.
Tag: perfume sea ocean blues blue champagne picnic miles-davis l-heure-bleue curacao perfect-moments tybee-island
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