and there's something about
turning 16
and filling your lips with
the deepest red
in the mirror

how it feels
like you've become a rose
freshly unfurled from
some skeleton,
your colours as rich and
viscous as your dripping blood

yet a rose that's closed
in a glass jar, you are
turned and admired, you are
twirled in fingers
like the stem of a wineglass

because at 16,
you feel you are something
refined,
mature and flowing and
beautiful

older

but it's only
your mother's lipstick;
she too is getting old.
at night you take
the crimson off,
and the rest of you
comes into focus.
all your yellows, all your blues;
you will need to love them too

and don't you let the laughter
slide off from
your new scarlet mouth
because you're 16 now.
it will try to
and you will need to pick it up
off the floor

because you're 16 now
but remember one thing for me:
you are far more sturdy
than just a rose

you are a girl
you are every colour
you think you haven't become

Scarlet, come to me
shine on me, want me, drag me
to a white altar

He travels in scarlet,
A scarlet shirt for all the fears.
He would go around and smile at all of you,
He may shake your hand,
And hope the tremors beneath his skin are hidden from your dry palms.
For even though he looks you in the eye,
He is afraid, always, since whenever,
Frightened, petrified, secretly exuding panic.
But this little boy, the one in red,
Was brave enough to face all of you,
For touching you may mend,
That part inside his mind that chokes,
At every bit of human contact,
Ever since that first night of contamination,
When red had become bad on his sheets,
When a candle was lit, slowly,
And he was made to watch as it burns,
And feel, and see, and scream,
But as the flame, over the years, slowly fade,
Another creeping memory,
Edges long since frayed,
A battle raged inside him,
And he told me,
"I will fight,
For tommorow and hope,
For the sunrise and heat,
But of all things,
I will fight for that smile you'll give,
When you see me cured,
I will fight for that hug,
And all our nights."
I have our hope,
And I will wait and watch,
As he touches you and grin.

Billows of blue sheets
Scarlet ribbons in the sky
Violet petals
Gold strewn across the heavens
Dazzle me. Then the sun sets.

There’s something wrong
With the rain tonight,
Not quite right
And unattended –
Desolate little drops,
A plenty and falling,
Or leaping,
As suicide’s now stained –
The houses, the trees,
The tollbooths, the tires
And doldrums my feet now reside.
In angst over wet, these lesser and
Imagined crimson,
I encounter a wind,
Quite possibly a whisper,
But a chill to remind bone –
That we all end someday
And we’ll all be ended
Someday
As well.

My tears fill the well that was designed for them.
Soon traveling down my cheeks and chin.
As creeks or streams might allow a mountain's rainy day runoff,
To gently pass over stone.
Triggered by a scent, a sound, a thought,
A dagger like sting from a memory of,
What could have been.
Perhaps the fearful gaze upon a future
That may lay ahead.

And so they fall.
Dying my eyes red.
In silence, I try to gather my thoughts,
Odd for someone whose thoughts
Placed him in this predicament
And as I stack them.
Neatly. I might add.
The breeze of your memory knocks them to the floor.
Again.
Because this has happened before.

You have done this to me once again.
This time your presence wasn't even necessary.
To cause this cascade of solemnity.
But I realize that sadness,
Isn't what I endure.
Rather reflection,
Similar to the one emerging on the countertop,
Under my chin
That grows with every drip and drop,
Grants that sadness has left me,
But each memory's searing pain
Doses me with lonely regret of squandered opportunity.
Which stabs at my heart.

The dripping soon subsides,
And with face stained scarlet.
I wipe away the remnants
Of my rainfall.
From face and counter.
And prepare the shielded smile.
That has protected me,
Since you left.
I prepare my next joke
Buttoning it from intro to punchline
Hoping that it garners a laugh.
So that, even if vicariously,
I can smile.

"Wake up, wake up" a gentle force on my shoulder awoke me.
"What's your name? What's your name? What's your name?" The Doctor told me.

I blinked, and I blinked, and I blinked three times.
I didn't know, didn't know, that I was out of my mind.

I saw the tears, saw the tears, saw the tears rush down.
"Who is she, who is she?" the hands felt around.

I blink blink blinked twice and a third.
My soul was free, free as a bird.

I clenched my fists and cleared my throat.
All eyes looked at me in a empty hope.

"My name is Scarlet, scarlet as red"
"Red as blood, blood instead"

Joyful screams filled my ears.
People jumping, filled with cheers.

What was wrong? I wondered.
Little did I know I was in a blunder.

I had amnesia and I didn't remember
That I had forgot.

sometimes
i wish that God would drop His golden yo-yo from the sky
and turn me yellow. <3