Red ribbons along her wrist,
Tied neatly in uniform rows.
Her favourite colour being red,
And yet she'd never show.
All the shades we're beautiful!
They screamed from light to dark,
And so did she when alone,
Though no one knew her part.
She kissed the ribbons each morning,
Some were long, some short.
She kissed them with her silver lips,
The ones her mother bought.
She hatted thinking it was wrong!
How could it possibly be?
In her mind she was a canvas,
Painting colours loud and free.
She watched as the ribbons ran,
Bright red and oh so raw.
The ribbons flow in the water,
Dancing all around.
So, she slipped away with them,
Without a single sound.
YOU ARE READING
My poems
PoetryJust little things I come up with every now and again. Enjoy them and the hopeful insight they give you.
