(i)
There's that girl again
soft pink lips,
light blush on her cheeks
when their eyes met
and her heart beat
all kinds of red.

(ii)
As he smiled
one stranger to another
a weird pulse in his chest
matted blood rose to his ears
but thank god
for beanies.

(iii)
Her voice, her laughter,
a euphoric symphony
like roses singing in the wind
and in this metaphor
he is the glorious wind
she should let him know that.

(iv)
"Should I?"
he held that letter
close to his body
contemplating to slip into
her vibrant red mailbox
he did; and ran away.

(v)
Who knew, the ends of
the red thread of destiny
were tied on their
little fingers
now they're no longer
tangled in someone else's.