Bottled Up Thoughts

  The girl who loves you admires roses a little more than your morning face. The girl who loves you, shoots questions bluntly, about triggers, trips and trees; to your friend lists and favourite sweets.  She adores the way you spark a smile, soon after you see her.   The girl who loves you, adorns a puppy face, -all cutesy, to get you sing a song; or skip a sour pill or two when sick. This girl sing songs, writes poetry, and asks too many questions bluntly, when she misses you the most.   Her love for you, is daunting, yet comforting; like the added layer of chocolate chips on Vanilla ice-cream; Like the first sip of coffee on a lazy morning. You for her, feel like home, all warm and cozy. You for her, is someone worthy of all good things of the universe.                                    ...

I bleed in red, And so, the women you worship once did. Many thanks to the commercials fond of color swapping red for blue, or for water white, or just something new: Like they dislike the red I bleed. But for a thirteen-year-old he and she might just believe it all to be true. Ashamed of that which is real, she is made to hide it - Within dense layers of coal-black plastic. The world has left me drained, relating my impatience to hormonal shifts; Loud voices teaching me to keep it a secret, and that it was all dirty. Like a sunflower,  I will bloom on the gift of Motherhood; this red leaves behind. Like a sunflower,  I will bloom  amidst these closed minds all around; Affirming in bold: RED IS NOT THE COLOUR OF A SIN. I bleed in red, And so, the women you worship once did. Period.                                           ...