Colors of Love

I am orange today. A statement of mood through expression of a color, trusting known connotations. Lately this seems to be a trend. Perhaps, a result of character limitations on tweets or status updates. What kind of love do cerulean, fuchsia, or aubergine bring to mind? As a writer of romance and erotica, I ponder such amusements.

A cold and isolated relationship is white, barren of everything, sterile. Be warned, icicles from that lover may impale you at any instant. Only the most colorful personalities feel welcomed. Ivory love, demure like a fragile parchment, kisses softly over the hair, the brow, the nose, before brushing lips. Its distant cousin, charcoal, seeks a stormy union. While the lovers' dedication may be as solid as granite, their passion transcends tumultuous fog, rain, wind, and snow. Thunder sparks intense passion. Values darker, a blackened heart grieves for what will never be, yet clings to remnants of broken beauty. His mysterious elegance draws many, yet fulfills none, instead appreciating their oppression, delighting in macabre.


That thirst for blood and hunger for life, heightens passions. Lovers slake their own desires for claret. Ropes bind the skin, cutting a sanguine trail. Stilettos and stockings lie tossed aside while she reclines; he is already gone from her bed. Crimson lips on his starched shirt bring a memory of the conquest. At his own door, he interrupts his daughter and boyfriend in a goodbye kiss, both blushing. The pinkness of young love. Inside at the dinner table he looks upon his wife, trying to recall that same tenderness. She is too aged; he cannot. But, her smile pours orange warmth across his heart, a glimpse of the sunshine which fascinated him when he proposed. He twirls his band of gold, wondering . . . his desire to provide for her transformed into a vicious drive. Their love once yellow, hers shone like the sun, while his reached toward succeed. As she gave birth to their children, her harmony glowed verdant and fertile. However, he became green with greed, darkening his heart by degrees, until compelled to satiate his ravenousness with that carmine mouth.


Sadly, like him, few discover the most blissful colors. The azure of tropical waters soothes the soul. Nothing is more important than time spent on carefree caresses, part of an everlasting vacation for those who are so lucky. Such tranquility, together gazing up to stars twinkling against sapphire is appealing, but I prefer to blend it with a quantity of passion – purple, my choice for amour. Hearkening back to chivalry, honor, and valiance, when nobles dressed in violet, I swoon from the romance. Amethyst love potions intoxicate with spells from which I never wish to turn away. Tiptoeing through patches of lavender and heliotrope while gathering armfuls of lilacs, his love seduces me with heady fragrances. This is the color of my love.


Do you agree with my color associations?  I'd like to know your thoughts.