Red

The colour of your lips
When they kiss me in the dark,

And the colour of the blood
When you stab me in the back

Both are the same.

If I told you my favorite colour was yellow would you believe me?
Even if I was smiling and bouncy and happy as could seem.
You would believe my lies in yellow that happiness in it beacuse i truly love brown but you would question it cause it's ugly and gross and not smiley and bouncy and happy as could be.
But separate brown take it apart peice by piece and see the colour it took to make brown see the yellow and greens the blues and reds the purples and orange and see all, all the effort put in to brown pick it apart and see that I do want you to pull me apart too,
see me like brown,
see what I took and place to make it me to make me seem happy as could be seem look at the yellow colour i say so I seem like me
My favorite colour is brown but you wouldn't believe me beacuse it's ugly and gross and doesn't seem happy as could be.

It a great thing to be in the middle of fades between the lines of black and white
It's great to be gray to disappear into the black like a shadow or like walking out in the middle of the night to not be noticed
Or never have any eyes on you
don't be seen
no mistake noticed.
the white does not always shine on you and when it does you can easily go back to gray
It's great to be gray beacause i change my outfit 5 times before coming here and and today maybe I wanted to shine. But I'm gray so I stand out just enough to be noticed but not to much then all eyes on me and that is quite scary then I'm not gray.

It's horrible to be gray.
To always seem like you are in 2 places at one like everyone is watching you but like not a single person will even notice you
It sucks to be gray.
To say hello to someone and they won't respond beacause they don't know your name from that day when you helped them when no one else would,
you were always in the gray
To have every mistake noticed by everyone but then be told that it's okay just stop
.and go back to the gray.

It's okay to be gray because between of the black and white I may stay
but oddly enough gray is okay it's a rhymes so it must be true
It a great thing to be in the middle of fades between the lines of black and white
It's great to be gray to disappear into the black like a shadow or like walking out in the middle of the night to not be noticed
Or never have any eyes on you
don't be seen
no mistake noticed.
the white does not always shine on you and when it does you can easily go back to gray
It's great to be gray because i change my outfit 5 times before coming here and and today maybe I wanted to shine. But I'm gray so I stand out just enough to be noticed but not to much then all eyes on me and that is quite scary then I'm not gray.

It's horrible to be gray.
To always seem like you are in 2 places at one like everyone is watching you but like not a single person will even notice you
It sucks to be gray.
To say hello to someone and they won't respond because they don't know your name from that day when you helped them when no one else would,
you were always in the gray
To have every mistake noticed by everyone but then be told that it's okay just stop
.and go back to the gray.

It's okay to be gray because between of the black and white I may stay
but oddly enough gray is okay it's a rhymes so it must be true
because in all white I shine all eyes on me never a moment of peace
never any time for the little boring gray me
But in the black I'm never seen I'm forgotten,
Say hi to the girl in the hall and receive a weird look because she doesn't even remember me now
Maybe it's okay to be gray because shades are sometimes all the same in some weird way. in all white I shine all eyes on me never a moment of peace
never any time for the little boring gray me
But in the black I'm never seen I'm forgotten,
Say hi to the girl in the hall and receive a weird look because she doesn't even remember me now
Maybe it's okay to be gray because shades are sometimes all the same in some weird way.

Oskar Erikson Jul 13

i want to add some colour to this overtly sanguine
bloodstream.

Brush my skin,
sepia freckles, moonlit paper.
Touch my face,
cotton cheeks, rosy hue.
Run your fingers through my hair,
silken and earthy.
Look me in the eye,
so bright, so blue.

~~ I'm not sure where this came from. ~~
Tife Jul 11
Red

Red.
He looked up
and red lights flashed before his eyes.
Red.
Like the signs he saw,
warning him that his end was near.
Red.
Like the girl he once loved,
who now towered above him
with no heart
and in place of a heart,
a hole that was
Black.
Like the dress she wore,
that flowed with malice
and the selfish lies that rolled off his tongue.
Pink,
Like the passion they once felt
that soon faded when he stole her heart.
Red.
All she could see was red
as she walked towards him.
She was hungry,
Hungry for revenge.
Her eyes dark red, filled with anger
like her dark red lips that dripped with lust,
for blood.
She ripped out his heart
"You stole my heart,
took away my love,
left me to suffer"
She licked her hand
And her blood stained red lips.
Red.

I wrote this ages ago but I don't hate it and I hope you like it
meg Jul 5

Wait with me. Wait for the world to exist.
Wait for what she will tell us.

True, our breath echoes the sea’s
sweeping tide. The inky bleeding
of saltwater that calms and soaks.
Drenched, this collective exhale.
I’ve always preferred silk over velvet;
that’s what the sea is. Silk over velvet.

The moon has seen every unholy rite,
her glare is cast cold. Over the Mysteries,
over me. Every pulse of her is lapped
up by the sea beneath. This shared breath
is echoed in the sea is echoed in the moon;
the universe folds itself. Lives inside a gasp.

Wait with me. Wait for the world to exist
by her own rules.

Our stars are fading like so many discarded
loves. The world is tired, she crumbles
our castles. Crumbles our convent,
exhausts our goddesses. Daughter of life,
who slipped through Death’s doorway;
she sinks below. A seasonal existence.

Sunset spills red on the horizon, dedicates
her evenings to us. We exist by her signal
and her permission. She stretches her skin
for the moon. Lays herself as a blanket
on which night may sleep, cradled and safe;
a nest of stars. We all seek Dawn’s relief.

Wait with me. Wait for the world to exist
in anger, in yellow, in rain.

inspired by the French phrase, 'il faut laisser aller le monde comme il va', which I saw floating around on the internet a while ago.

It's able to diminish existence, to end life.
Fire can slowly destroy everything.
It's appearance almost therapeutic.
A glance transports you to another word , one where you're left alone to think and to reminisce.
It's auburn shade and blistering touch oddly appeals to the senses guiding you to the error of the world.
Fire can be demanding.
Can control and force you to reconsider your decisions.
It can make you conform to its ways yet you allow it.
You welcome it because what's a world without danger.

RED

I took my canvas out,
Cleaned dusty brushes,
Colours spread on desk,
I sketched his brown eyes,
His lips that I once kissed,
His face so innocent,
And I painted it RED.

Love looked so innocent until it turned her life upside down.
Donna Jones Jun 19

Pretty peonies
Resting over garden fence
Smiling happily

beautidol flowers very pretty to see x
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