When I think of Red,
I think of anger.
I also think of
Love and lust
And compassion
Hanging by the heart
Strings, waiting to break
And stop the flow of
The red blood pumping
Through us all.
When I think of red,
I think of roses,
And lost causes of romance.
I think of my lipstick
Smeared on your lips
From a passionate kiss
We never wanted to stop.
I think of fire,
Waiting to burn those
Who are curious and
Ignorant of the pain.
I think of the desire
Burning within us all,
Just as the blood flows,
Adding more fuel to
That fire.
I think of childhood.
Carelessness leading to
A bad fall, and tears
As I see a part of myself
Spill out in crimson
Droplets, only to be replaced
By cells, as I was with
Friends and past loves.
Red holds meaning, red
Holds long life,
And memories of
My first time
Seeing the light.
YOU ARE READING
Sure, Thanks, I am Fine
PoetryDepression Anxiety Insomnia Heartbreak Unloved Crazy Scared Joyful Happy Bullied Everything listed here is something I've either felt or gone through. As have many others. But is it easy to say out loud? No, it never is.
