Don’t ask me why,
because,
I don’t know.

But you came to me,
like a sorceress.

Who enchanted my soul,
with her magic.

A magnetism drew us together,
a red thread intertwined us.

Souls that knew each other from another life,
recognizing themselves in a single gaze.

Don’t ask me why,
because there is no why.

Only the universe
willed it so.

Communication, chemistry,
caresses, tenderness,
and unrestrained love—

the kind you make,
and the kind you feel in your heart.

Red is for roses,
Or so they say.
But roses are green too,
At the end of the day.

Why focus on flowers,
Temporary, fragile?
When instead there are thorns,
Durable, agile.

Think about it really,
What is red giving?
For green is still lovely,
Lively and living!

Green holds pine needles,
Oak leaves, and ferns.
Red holds hot fire,
All that does is burns!

Why flare up in moments?
Why flare up at all?
When you can be a constant,
Like a bright green moss wall.

Ever growing, ever changing,
But never erased.
Doesn’t that sound much better
Than a love laid to waste?

It soaks in the power
And warmth from above.
Yes, green is ideal.
The true color of love.

red is the blood that pours down his arms
red is the flush on her cheeks
red is the flower that they wear on their charms
red stains my carpet for weeks

wine and women
power hungry; driven
red controls life.

red is the heart
hurting the boy
pumping too hard and fast

red is the truck
that took them away
the world speeding past

red is hungry
red is power
red is strong.

She is that flower in pinkish-red hems
Blooming amidst the silent, withered stems;
She does not need any grace of water,
But pleased to tears that have fallen over

My hand trembles, I cannot pluck her roots—
She's too precious to be in worn-out boots;
Though it hurts, I'll hope there's a gardener
Who'll place her where light shines a bit kinder.

Rose blood red,
Pricked my finger,
Now the feeling's trapped in my head.

I think it felt okay,
But that's not okay,
I'll save my silly thoughts,
So you know I'm okay.

it's roses against a twilight sky,
and the exchange of sweet nothings.

or,
floating embers burning,
children of a dancing flame.

maybe,
it's velvet cake topped with cream-cheese icing,
baked special for a loved one.

could be,
sweet strawberries ripe on the vine,
ready for picking.

possibly,
it's a summer sunset,
scattered with cotton-candy clouds.

whatever red is,
it's my colour.

we are speech and breath
the days are red; painted blushes in the sky
would the Heavens tell us stories of true love –
a message well read?