I longed for red lips,
red roses and rest,
soft cotton and comfort,
found upon her smooth breast.

The red of her love so entangled me,
But oh how I did crave the pain
To banish my own mediocrity
And burn in her molten red rain

In our days we danced so wildly,
Through red skies so happy we flew,
But soon our red turned to crimson,
A red much too heavy for two.

Now I long for white roses,
A somber display,
I’ll curse it in horror,
And fling it away.