Light crept it's way out from under the closed door of room 46. Shuffling feet and swirling figures swayed to the staggered breathes of two sinners. The sweet venom of her kiss seeped through your back and into the cherry wood frame. Lover of another, so broken, so lost that you forgot to pick up your pieces on the way down the road to this vacant motel. Even then I could see the shards from your back showing through the walls as I stood outside in the corridor. The paintings on the wall whispered of an affair that of one I know. Trembling were the stairs, as they stammered out confessions of the pair of drunken steps taken. Alibis from your lips, oh how they began to fly. Just like the lies you told of how I was the Sun in your dark skies.
"But Love... " I dared to say, "The Sun will die."
Two steps forward, I knocked twice on the cherry wood door cautiously avoiding the splinters. Your body heat radiating and her gasp of terror was enough for me to knock once more out of spite.
"Darling, your playing with matches. Her voice struck your interest, and one spark flew." I sneered as I entered.
Her smile was wicked and so were your intentions... You found your lips onto hers once more. I began to laugh with Insanity pumping through my veins.
I was neurotic, and very much in touch, with the way her hands were all over your bare skin.
"You struck once more and a flame has begun, sorry to hear Love, but your lost your Sun. You wanted a fire so red and hot that you forgot I bathed in gasoline. Forgive me, for reminding you that you once held my hand, before this fiery scene."
I stepped out and slammed the door and ran down the halls. Step by step my heart pumped harder. Sirens blared louder. Light shone red.
I had sliced myself with your pieces, my blood was so red.
The noise was red.
The stop sign I turned at was so red.
The sound of Armageddon was red.
My eyes were bloodshot, oh so red.
In my head the noise, the voices, every whisper, was so Red.
The nonsense of this is all so red...
YOU ARE READING
The Color Series
PoesíaA collection of poetry that's as intricate as the labyrinth of my mind.