Roses are Red.
And tears are blue.
Thorns cut.
And blood runs.
Skin cuts too easily.
And smirks appear too quickly.
All of this is true.
And I hope you see.
That I am me.
And you are you.
Records play, clocks chime, keys unlock.
The laughter fades, as the cackles rise.
The corsets and laces, ribbons and layers
Aren’t enough to hide the glint of mischief
in the eyes.
Bells are ringing, fog is rising, screams drifting.
She walks down the deserted streets.
Everyone home, locking their windows and doors.
Hiding their families and collecting their weapons.
Her smirk widens, as she contains her excitement.
She stops under a streetlight, dark hair pulled back with ruby colour.
She waits, undeterred, knowing what’s coming.
Her eyes drift closed, head resting against the post.
The air suddenly chills, she smiles, eyes still closed.
Hey eyes flutter open, looking into the shadows.
The smirk grows.
She walks from the post, her pace being caught with another.
Face forward, the Other smirk puts a hand to her hip.
She pulls away, to continue, her black heels clicking.
A hand grasps hers, pulling her to a stop.
She smirks and bites the inside of her lip.
She’s greeted with a knowing smile.
The Other pulls away only to hold the arm out.
She slips her hand around the arm extended, facing forward again.
They proceed across the cobblestones, both waiting for the adrenaline to be met.
They stop at a brick house, the biggest of the small town.
The shutters draw in tight, the door bolted with ten-thousand locks.
She looks up and the Other smirks down on her.
Together, they step forward.
She begins to laugh, her cackles echoing around the block.
She realizes the Other is gone, but already knows what’s happening.
Though she can’t help but feel distracted.
Her cackles continue, but the Other is already in, apartment number thirteen.
She giggles madly, constructing fog out of nothingness.
She saunters closer, scraping her nails down the shutters.
Screams inside start to erupt. She laughs, throwing her head back.
Smoke and mist engulf her, sending her inside the palace.
She appears next to the Other.
Watches the man in the corner going mad.
She smiles, seeing the job is down.
She turns to face the Other, the right side of her mouth turning upwards.
She leans close, and winks, only to be whisked away by the smoke.
The only remembrance for the Other of her, until they should see again:
Roses are Red.
And tears are blue.
Thorns cut.
And blood runs.
Skin cuts to easily.
And smirks appear to quickly.
All of this is true.
And I hope you see.
That I am me.
And you are you.
Her voice is gone, only to leave:
Records play, clocks chime, keys unlock.
The laughter fades, as the cackles die.
YOU ARE READING
Roses are Red
Poetry'Roses are red...' How would you finish the statement? I know how I would.
