My kind of Red
I told myself
To go with the flow
Gosh I was so naive then
And though somewhat I had known
Of warmth and of love
And how it all goes
When I saw her
All of it just froze
She wasn't all sweet
And warm like I'd been told
But she was like blood
Splashed over white snow
She was like a fever dream
Shards of red glass melting into the glow
Of a crimson flame
A mesmerizing show.
Toxic yet intoxicating.
A sugarcoated sword.
It was almost real.
The bittersweet world
That I'd found her in, though,
Still seems every bit familiar.
Every bit known.
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