he had once loved the colour red.
seduction. love. passion. heartbreak. danger. excitement. the strobe lights flashing in the dark, hearts ablaze, eyes wide with anticipation, lust laced in dripping sweat. eyes—red with passion. bodies—red with heat. flesh—red with mortality. hearts—red with love.
he had once loved the colour red.
she was bathed in it: in red. from head to toe, petals of red roses decorated her being and twirled her hair in tawny twists. her lips were red with seduction, eyes red with passion, body red with heat, flesh red with mortality, and her heart was red with love.
he had once loved the colour red, because he never felt any of those things for her.
and he enjoy devouring the red from her being
until it became blue.
blue, like ice.
cold and deadly,
frail and shivering.
weak and sad and broken.
blue, like the sea.
raging and powerful,
but slowly drowning in
her own sorrow.
blue, like paint.
sad and unhappy yet
an eerie calmness to it—
—and he hated the calm.
but now, when he saw her bathed in blue with a smile on her face, he suddenly loved the colour blue.
he loved it because it was all the things that red wasn't.
he once loved the colour red.
- r.
cupid knew their love was not meant to last, for red and blue may seem as though they attract one another, but for lust—never for something meaningful; third january, 19
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et aedificabo eam
Poetryif only the clock would be merciless, if only time would reverse; did i not tell you that cupid's plans could be the worst? started 19/12/18 collection of poems cover picture found off pinterest
