Red, is the wine ma mama drinks.
Red, is the color of his face.
Red, is the color of my ears when she screams.
Red, is the color she sees when he drink, but, vise versa when she cheats.
Red, is the color of the prints they leave on each.
Red, is the color of the dress she wore.
Red, is the color of the club dance floor.
Red, is the color if the drink she inhaled with of hint of a cream colored pill.
Red, is her blurred vision at night while the sweet yet devilishly wicked man offers her a ride, yet she doesn't see the thick red he brings.
Red, and bloody is the color of her skin when he is relieved.
A blood curdling red is what she screams when her dreams turn to nightmare.
All because of her fertility...
Red, is the color this old women sees.
Lying on death, such old withered knees.
Red, from working all her life.
But, her children always picks a fight. But they only see red when they approach other kins.
Constantly, bickering, hissing, and yelling for wins.
These children were stubborn and didnt realize they're lose. Atleast until they were placing RED roses next to their deceased mom...
YOU ARE READING
little women poems
PoesíaJust about a girl from Upstate New York. Little snippets from her life... Things she's experienced Not only looking from the outside, in.
