Red leans close and starts to speak, like, “Come here...don’t flinch, don’t be weak.” It smells like iron, warm and raw, like knuckles split and broken law. It says, “I’m 'love', but not the kind that sits still or is always kind.” I burn in hearts that beat too fast, in promises that never last. Red laughs when anger fills the room, when quiet words turn sharp with doom. It hums in veins, it drums in fists, in every grudge that still exists. It whispers hate with shaking breath, walks hand in hand with risk and death. I stain the ground, I mark the line, between what’s yours and what was mine. Red doesn’t heal, it only scars, it follows fights and broken bars. But still you feel me, deep instead, you hate me, love me… I’m still red. #color #red