Hearts are pumping.
Blood is thumping.
Bumping into wine.
Little Red Something
Corvette or Riding Hood
For you can only find.
Crackling fire over stove
In houses made of warm, brown wood.
World on fire, except for grass, where I once stood.
Splattered with red on faces of warheads.
Sore with anger, with wrinkles sprawled on foreheads.
The Stop's to the Go's, and the No to the Yes'.
The color of the 0 on all the failed tests.
YOU ARE READING
Bipolar Light
PoetryThe many differences of color, and the mood that comes along with them.
