The tiny splatters of
paint dripped from
the ends of their cheeks,
like raindrops blending
in with the tears of
the clouds.
My eyes blurred with
the lines in between
the two lives in front of
me. Their voices echoed,
bouncing off the walls of
blue and red.
"Daddy, where's
mommy?"
She's free.
BINABASA MO ANG
shades of red
Poetrywhen you have too many thorns, all you can do is paint them in red, because, maybe then, they will look like petals [sequel to shades of blue]
