No one could be red
Quite like her, a crimson-
Caped gal full of rogue
Thoughts like fire storms
That burned for revolution.
If I wasn't so afraid of setting
My dry-leaf life ablaze, we'd
Be more than just two grey
Facebook users playing the
Block game. But from those young
Days and long nights, the vague
Inklings of camaraderie linger. I
Remember her velvet soul, a fine fabric,
Tough and royal but always
Twisted. She kept roses in her
Wild hair but thorns in her
Tongue. Light refracted through
Her ruby body, beaming out every
Color of the human psyche,
But all I remember was the red.
Perhaps I saw the blood in her
Lips, the glow of passion, the
Spark of something I couldn't yet
Understand. Perhaps I was nothing
More than my fears. Perhaps I
Simply mistook her for a mirror.