it is the color that seeps out of chopped flesh and sinew

it is the flexing of your muscles before you count

one, three, and two

because the mailman never seems to see the color of the post flag in the air

it’s the color of the matches before they

burst into the color of a dress you danced in

           once

it’s the color of the way that people don’t seem to care that

there’s a soprano buildup in your ears, the pounding in your veins as it closes with the color of

your throat when you scream

because nobody sees the color of you being hurt, so

it is the color of when the ashes have stopped falling and everything you love and more has been burnt, so

it’s the color of your nails as you try to hide your shame

because out of everyone else, you’ve got to be blamed

because only you know the color of yourself in the mirror

and since you’ve got passion for yourself, they might call you a sinner

throw some words, in a color that is known

can evoke anger, rage, and dread

    but the truth is there’s more to be said

don’t slap labels of this color like people are merch or marathon runners

this color is a beauty that is limited in our heads

let it out,

set it free

like the emotions this color should be

passion is not so easily expressed

so, by letting you see my red?

well, let me tell you

you’ve been blessed