You said red was your favourite colour,
the colour of your tears.
I didn’t quite understand what you meant by that back then.
Red was the colour that saved you.
The colour of the life guards that pulled you out of the pool,
even though you didn’t ask for it.

Red was the pen that your teacher marked with.
Failure was your worst enemy, but red was still your favourite.
“It’s the colour of what’s inside me.”
That, I understood.
“That’s why I spill so much blood”
I’m still trying to understand this.

Red was the colour of your pain,
the colour that kept you sane,
and Red was the colour of your texts that failed to garner a response.
Red was the love you tell others you never felt,
the love you never received.
And red was the name you wanted to choose for yourself,
a colour to define your life.

Red was everything to you,
and I never understood that,
how your red was so negative,
nothing to be proud of,
and yet it meant so much to you.

– Priscillamf (28.06.17)
(I’m really enjoying these colour based poems. Thank you for reading)

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