All I see is red.
Urgent and arresting red.
The blinking lights on the road red.
Her hair in the wind red.
Molten rage and dry wine red.
Wrinkled sheets and horror-filled dreams red.
Bonfire embers and crossed out ledgers
Demanding a pound of flesh.
A rose in a book to remember,
A shirt in the crowd to forget, the silence
Late at night.
Too many glass hearts with too little left
Signs that warn keep away.
Hurt rises from the dead,
A lit match in a haystack.
One wrong step to pry the future away.
Forsaken lives in a hellish despair.
Bloodshot eyes counting down the days.
A collective holding of breath
Until the clock resets.
Stubbornly holding out for a new beginning
As we race towards the end.
Waiting for the sun to shine through closed eyes
And all we see is red.
Sitara is part writer. Part scuba diver. And is always on the lookout for more portals to a fictional world where all the magic and dragons exist.