Red

You have left stain
Upon stain
Upon me
Across the surface of my body
And upon my brain
It’s a wonder my skin
Hasn’t turned red yet.
But red with love
Or with anger
Is the question.
With the passion of a burning desire
That is now only sparks and embers
With a flame I can hardly
Remember
Was it ever even there?
Maybe it’s red with anger
From all the times you threw me around
Leaving me with red cheeks
From tumbling upside down.
Maybe it’s red with the blood
That seeped from under our tongues
When we bit down so hard
On everything we
Didn’t say.
Maybe it’s red from all the warmth
You spread within me
And helped me find
When I felt so alone and
You somehow reminded me I wasn’t.
Although little did you know.
Maybe your stain is just a mixture
Of a hundred shades of red
Because I always felt so much
But never knew which feeling it was.
It was always a mix of everything.
You were always a mix of everything.
Now I am painted
In a cacophony of all your reds
And maybe I can’t see the stain
But I can feel it.