I thought of February, with its pink and ivory lace,
And I can't help but feel dissonance with the strawberry-soft sentiment.
It matches my mind, pairing well with the doily and peonies on the living room table.
February's gifted, gilded frames fit around my pastel paintings perfectly,
The tropes and daydreams beautifully centered for all to see.
But it's not...right. Not at this moment.
This room is right for me. But not for you.
I gaze outside, and my glance catches on the shimmering sunset,
Orange light setting the crimson bricks ablaze as grass gets cast in shadow.
It reminds me of your brilliant eyes and your bold footsteps,
Your eagerness and ambition blazing a path through dead leaves.
Forging your own light and shadow, you burn bright and pierce the night.
I realize that you are passionate. Powerful. Poignant.
Pastels would be alright, but your colors are vivid. Vivacious. Vibrant.
You deserve a scarlet room.
At first, I was scared to reach. I was afraid to speak and wary to touch.
My fingers are stained with charcoal, dark and messy like my flaws.
But you were kind enough to allow me into your orbit, and you gave me bravery,
And to my relief, my careful touch didn't stain your dewy skin, honey hair, or golden heart.
I took your hand and I led you into the haven of my heart,
And there, I gave you a room to reside in.
A place where you might be comforted and safe.
You never have to stay in your scarlet room. This is meant to be your residence.
You can come and go whenever you like, setting your sights out to wherever.
If you ever move out, there are no consequences, and I will send you on your merry way.
But I want you to know that you have a place here. A home to make your own.
Mortgage and rent are never a thing, and you owe me nothing.
Leave whatever you wish in your room and decorate it to your liking.
Whether burdens or interests alike, my scarlet room will bear it.
And, if you ever wish it, I would be honored to be your host.
I would love to listen to you, comfort you, and hold you close whenever you desire
Because I am simply satisfied and overjoyed to have you reside
In this scarlet room of mine.
YOU ARE READING
Rose, Prose, Poetry
PoesíaExploring topics of love, limerence, grief, and everything in between, this is a collection of 100 poems written over a year. The works both reflect inner emotions and outward connections, attempting to capture the interconnected nature of the worl...
