In a garden where red flags do love to sway,  
Our pink eyes instead see beauty, but not the fray.  
Though the mix of colour are rose’s gleam,  
The thorns are hidden in a deeper scheme,  
And the sharpness can lead two hearts astray.

I'm your mothers favorite bad influence
Perfect and in line enough
to ignore the major red flags that should induce reluctance
and instead label me hard working and tough
the perfect girl to get to know

I'm who your father thought he would be
music that grates and teeth bared just sharp enough
an idea of who to be and the will to be free
smooth around the edges but inside too rough
the kind of seed in you he'd like to sow

I'm the disgrace with a pretty little face
and the intelligence to lie
and get by with just enough grace
so that one day this persona may die
as I fade from their neat little row

The fault with seeing the world through rose-coloured glasses is that we do not know when to stop.

When the lights at the crossroads flicker red, all we see is light, not colour.

We run, we hide in nostalgia’s walls, playing with the toys we grew out of, talking to the skeletons in our closet.

“Life is so strange,” we say, as though we are no stranger ourselves.

Romanticise, don’t realise
love is like hate
passion like anger, anxiety
and blood, just another fluid

Roses, red all the same

Wine, flows through oesophagus like water flowing like tears of the child’s sighs at night yearning for a relief of the pain of a

strange life

being no stranger ourselves

seeing the world through rose-coloured glasses

not knowing when to stop.

Never make someone the center of your universe.
For eyes cannot see red flags, when blinded by light.

i haven't known you that long
so i wasn't thinking of what could go wrong.
i liked all of you verily
thought we'd be more than friends happily.

but you were a scoundrel,
one i did not know too well.
you were a fabulist,
deceit is what you always insist.

i guess i was just too naive
in you i continued to believe.
now the red flags are waving at me,
telling me to go and fly free.

I held on so tight to the string that was attached to the storm cloud of our relationship. Afraid that if I let go I will not see the sunshine that was once us.

I held on to the smiles of happier times and the looks of love. I held onto the effortlessness of our beginning and the passion in our kiss.

The cloud became heavier and heavier and some helped me to hold on, others begged me to forget.

I found my strength in remembering.

Every red flag that I painted white. All the dreams that died when you left. I remember the wasted time spent on forlorn hope of empty promises.

It took me awhile to realize that I was holding on to a mistake because I took so long to make it, blinded by the fantasy of what we could be. I cannot continue watering a dead plant.

I’m ready to let go of every ‘what if’.
I’m ready to let go for me, for a heart that doesn’t lie and a love I can believe in.