I like colour red.
Red dresses or makeup does not flutter me.
Not the blossoms of rose and tulips,
It's not the aesthetic withered leaves on road.
Not the red foxes or wolves,
Not the innocent insects on flowers and trees branches,
Definitely not the bittersweet wine,
Maybe The rare red clouds,
Or the bloodmoon.
I like colour red, the blood red.
The cut of your throat give the pleasure of red,
The blue veins on your wrist gives me urge to see red.
YOU ARE READING
The End
PoetryJust poem collection that written by me. It might get depressive and distrubing so, read without comments. But, I do things comments will make my day little better so, write good one please.
