You are my mirage,
flesh and blood
mere flecks of color
on my brush;
to pour my painted lips on yours,
your visage I should crush.
Camouflage
a puerile penchant
your enigma
sparks in me;
seductive as the rose
from a palette on my knee.
You have assuaged
an empty victory,
but what may I command,
when the carnage left behind
has only heightened my demand
for your mirage.
The Scenic Route 
Your voice shines through! Beautifully expressed.
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Thank you!
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Another one of my top favorites! I aspire to be the level of genius you are at painting visceral images through poetry.
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That is extremely kind. Thank you so much!
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