Untitled, a poem by Istara

1–2 minutes

Angry red traces of tears down my cheeks 
Scarlet shame when I hear myself speak
 
It’s as if you splashed wine on a white dress 
Tainted in blood, made it a mess

Cherry lipstick on my collarbones 
Crimson knives through the phone 

Ruby rivers pumping my heart 
A Burgundy saviour in my eyes 

Like a maroon imprint in my mind
Marking my own soul carmine 

And if my feelings bleed out of my rib cage 
Forgive me for the sin of being my age