Red is the color of Passion and boundless affection
Red is the crimson that paints our veins and our heart and our pains and the stains on our flag that marks the blood of the past.
Red is the cross that sits upon the crest lf medical practice the ribbon that sits on the graves of hundreds affected by the plague disease called the government doesn't care about our healthcare system
Red is the color of war, the people, the magma that boils Below the surface of a civilization that was never cared for, birthing a revolution which then means red is the color of change, of plans, of action of devotion to a cause a family, a society and finally;
Red is the rose, with thorns that birth a roar, a change. Red is the color of pain.
Touch, please
A craving settles beneath my jaw, slowly building as I flex my neck.
Taste, please
I cry, the tightness in my throat only getting worse every moment we waste.
Touch me, please!
I beg but to no avail, my chest heavy with the weight of silence.
Let me taste you, I crave it!
I couldn't help but demand, but again they fall on deaf ears.
Touch me, here, I need you!
I look down at what you did to me, unable to show you myself but I hope you get the hint.
No, you say, sternly
It haunts me those words, all I can feel is hunger yet you refuse me sustenance.
Till we meet again?
I ask, knowing soon you'll leave me again in darkness.
Yes, till then.
You close the door and I'm left to my lonely. I await your next visit even though I know you'll never grant me what I ask...
Touch, taste. Please.
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