Little Worlds

Red (不能看）

The stimulus of this was to describe the colour red, to someone who had never seen it.

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Red is the delay of your heart, when you capture her fragile gaze.
It is the stain on her cheeks when you stammer and greet.
It is the hum in your chest when she answers, so sweet.
It is the curling petal of the roses you gave her.
It is the trim of her dress which flutters in the night of your first dance.
It is the first taste of her lips, when you wonder how anything could be so soft.
It is the crumpled heap of her clothes on your bedroom floor, where yours lay in unison.
It is her fingertips on your skin, in your hair, round your heart.
It is the hazy night, with blushing skin and parted lips.
It is the dawn, that blends like summer days with her shallow breaths.

But
It is the space in your heart when she is gone.
It is the throb, the ebbing tide of longing in your head.
It is the slamming door.
It is the missing beat.
It is the empty hole, in her absent heat.
It is the echo of her soul.
It is the endless slumber.

And it is the time that has passed.

Red, looks like her.