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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 © | Year Posted 2025




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Book: Reflection on the Important Things