Red
Blood gushing from my retorn wounds,
your stained hands covering your ears;
I choke on red
and, like a sinner pleading to live,
clasp my hands around your throat
so full of red.
My desire to mix our blood,
to see you bleed as I do,
is suffocating—
consuming—
all I can see, all I want to see,
is red.
But when my wild eyes meet yours
and the white of your smile
dilutes the red,
I tear my own stained hands away
and gag on the same shade
that drew me to you.
Copyright © Vaviana Young | Year Posted 2025
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