I bleed and I call it the colour of love

Dripping red onto pristine snow of hope

Droplets pulled away from the very heart of me

With a smile

Always a smile

As they fall

Every breath, every heartbeat pressing out yet another myriad

But never forming a river

Never making a waterfall

One by one – a crimson kaleidoscope

An ornament, a gift from the heart to the cold

Manifesting a pink slush – the colour of glass over our eyes

That we all wear

That we all have worn

Dying the world red and our souls redder

Violets aren’t blue

And love isn’t red

Yet I bleed and call it the colour of love

Until I am white

White as a ghost resting on a bed of pink snow

prompt by @theconstantpoet on instagram

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