Aphrodite

The petals leave a stain 
as I crush them in my palm 
imagining that the color would be similar to 
the bruises on my hips left by your grasp. 
That deep purple 
makes me think of how you'd handle my flesh 
and brings a flush of pink to my chest 
and cheeks 
as I remember myself. 
Kneading the petals into a silk 
the smoothness awakens more fantasies 
ones that may not leave a visible mark, 
but would make a lasting impression.