Oddly enough, I love the color of maroon more than red
it's darker, sharpened, like a mixture of pride and some things unsaid
As it pass by, it will always catch my eye
As if it's monitoring me, knowing he's worthy of a sigh
If maroon was a person, he's someone who would dominate my silence
And cover this tingling ache of stress puff into zest
He'd be someone to cheer up and boost this existence
of mine who would be blue in times of face buried in desks
It seems as though maroon and I have the same purpose
in this life, and that is to unite the things in opus
I do not know why in this color I'm so attracted like a moth caught into flame
and there's not flame with a color of maroon so what's to blame?
Valentines, red here and everywhere
Sometimes I smack my face, wondering if I'm the only one searching for you near?
Cause more than a light, you're a ball of deep chaotic maroon yarn mush into you
Thanks for existing, now I'm not blue
YOU ARE READING
One Hundred Fifty
РазноеFifty, Fifty, Fifty A writing challenge for myself is to create fifty poems, fifty essays, and fifty one-shot stories, every single prekeng day to make it a hundred and fifty days of honing my skills and giving sparks to my interest. Here's the deal...
