Unica Browns Poet Dramatic Monologue

My favourite color

Men weren't taught how to cry, so I will teach.

Any mere person would run away if they knew
the devils my brain shelters.

I feed my monsters with my thoughts
and entertain them with crime stories.

I love the taste of my blood—
the tint it leaves behind,
that perfect shade of red once it dries.

I’m the one who drives past the howling dogs,
rolls down the window in the middle of the night,
watches horror movies
like I’m preparing for a battle that hasn't happened yet.

I collect every way there is
to track, to hunt, to kill.

I live for the moment
I stop being prey
and become the predator.

I’m a lover, not a hater—
but nobody ever mentions
"gore cinephile".

Every movie becomes a spectacle
when red is its main color palette.

Coming back to men—
the most boring topic in this entire journal—

would he savor the violence on screen the way I do,
or curl into my arms instead?

Honestly, I’d love both.

As long as he’d let me taste his blood.

Let me be clear—
I’m not a serial killer,
not a sadist.

…I’m just a girl.

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