Deepan von Serpente Poet Rhyme

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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