She was wearing red shoes, I was wearing nothing
At least that’s how it felt when she kissed me
With her lips fuller than a Thanksgiving meal

Paper slipping through my finger, cutting like butter
Gravity pulling the plasma toward the bottom of my feet
Leaving behind a dark red laceration with a pulse

A barrel that is 30 years old, filled with fine wine
I turn the nozzle, which bleeds a perfectly ripe, healthy red
And lands into a smaller barrel with a handle on its side

A brown mosquito lands on its first meal.
He drinks and drinks and drinks and never feels full
Until finally he takes his last drink,
ever,
And becomes more red than brown

Brighter than the ocean’s reflection of the sun,
Sink your teeth in deep to the crispy skin of a red apple
Then absorb what it has been producing it's whole life

A bouquet of red roses face down in a trash can
A man picks them up with a smile on his face
He walks away but soon it won't be the roses prickling his hand

Red.

By: Kadin Bowling