Doom Days, WIP
I come from whispered wishes
a child of the corn, filled with red meats and casserole dishes.
Ruddy cheeks in the winter
sun burnt shoulders in the summer
I am from rusty, dusty barns,
and red front doors
(because my mom wanted to be fancy like Elizabeth Arden,
so I'll beg your pardon).
Red carpets, red curtains, red blood
you always knew how to make an entrance,
and an exit.
"All I see is red", a psychic once said.
I made art about you,
and it was Sanguine.
Filled with want and silent screams,
and warm pigments
deep reds of cadmiums and crimsons.
I scratched, ripped, scored, scarred, and carved the surface,
still tattooing these lines with my hands, so I'll never forget the purpose.
Touching hands, reaching out, touching me, touching you...
I come from Diamonds and Princes
smart mouths, and capable bitches
squishy hugs and terrible kisses
longings and losses, and optimisms and wishes.