Poetry

Red

Red, neon red, fills my snow white flesh 

Red trapezing through my veins 

Fresh red, running down my finger 

I’m mMesmerized, i feel no pain 

 

Red, watermelon red, brimming with black spots 

Little invaders spit out by giants and left to rot 

The red, juicy goodness, consumed on days running hot 

By all except I, for I’d rather not 

 

Red, italiano rose, swaying in the breeze 

Passionate petals stretching wide, awakened from deep sleep 

Their fragrance fluttering in my nose as I breath in the May air 

And sit beside the regal roses to soak in rays of gold

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