Upon the canvas of the evening sky,
The color red, like passion, stains the air.
It speaks of love, where tender moments lie,
And pulses through the heart with burning care.

In shadows deep, its crimson light reveals
A truth within, a feeling fierce and pure.
A love that cuts, yet never truly heals,
For in its bleed, we find a faith secure.

Intimate and raw, its fire makes us whole,
It courses through the veins, a secret thread.
A silent vow that binds both heart and soul,
That we are bound, though we may bleed and dread.
The red that rises from the depths of night,
Is both our joy, our pain, our sweetest plight.