White clouds surrounding the crimson flame
Snowflakes coating the red blazing geranium
A pale face with a maroon lipstick
A glass of white wine and cardinal grapes
A white lace dress with burning red roses
A white night with sanguine passions
Cream and strawberries
A cotton ball with blood
White marble gravestone buried in red soil
Sad white funeral lilies soaked in blood-red tears

My hair has been gently touched by your hands
When they were still warm
How will I ever get it cut?
When you cut yourself off from me

I am not a poet
Or a woman of letters
Not talented or gifted
I just go through enormous pain
Poems are the painkiller
Poems are the band-aid
Poems are the antidepressant
Poems are my companion
Poems hold my hand
Poems hug me real tight
Poems never leave me alone
Poems sleep with me
And wake up with me
Poems fill my heart
Poems feed me
Poems satisfy my thirst
Poems love me
I put my head on a poet’s lap
And he caresses my hair

You are the mangrove
deeply rooted
tides could not uproot you
ebb and flow
could not slow
resistant to all hardship
despite all fault
salt
could not
hurt your scabs
You stood strongly
to prevent all erosion
and let all the fish hub live
pleasing all
with your magical  beauty
brightest greens
livelihood but not the grim
You secured all
creating a sheltered home