Red represents the polar opposites of ourselves that we so viciously wish to deny.
It’s the vulgar velvets of vexations
Of pulsating anger burning holes in our lungs forcing flames down our windpipes,
Are rather traditional depictions of the kindled sparks within us.
But its lighter hue…
Is the bright burning deep in our cheeks when that someone walks by gently uttering your name, into
The scrapes and slashes on ourselves we’d do anything to cover up.
Gashes dripping the same shade of retaliation,
But this time, forcefully formatted into potent shame.
Our hearts never rupture their cadence for our conscious minds,
Rather those impulses we so innately cloak ourselves within,
The scraps of highs and lows
And the harsh realities of our own rock bottoms.
Red is part of us
And no matter what other colors we mix in,
there’s no getting around its dark stains.