If only red wasn't so seductive
Maybe then I wouldn't be covered in ink
Maybe then I wouldn't have silver in my blood
coursing through my ragged veins
and corrupting my arteries
If it had been any other color
green or blue or pink or yellow
Perhaps I never would have loved ink
Maybe I would have stuck with the crayon box
Maybe I would have been content
with angular rainbows and misshapen rain clouds
and a waxy heart that settled in my chest
At least then I wouldn't be drowning in this
This vat of ink and red and silver
I am so tired of ink and red and silver
But they've coiled themselves around me
twisting up my spine, my lungs, my heart
I'm a captive to my own desire for it
possessed by the dripping red
by the scarlet slipping out of me
I am so sick of ink.
and yet.
I dip the silver back in the ink pot.
YOU ARE READING
wilting roses
PoetryAnother collection of (bad) poems. *tw: mentions of sexual assault, drug use, drinking, suicidal ideation and self harm* -a collection of poems that document my experiences with my mental health throughout high school. a warning: i had a few undiagn...
