Poems

The Red Upon The Petals

The red upon the petals,

So full of memories.

Memories of the deceit that he provided you,

When he took your red away.

Memories filled with those special childhood lacerations

Upon your elbows and knees,

As you learned to ride that precious vermillion bike,

That your brother once liked.

The red upon the petals,

As red as the velvet cake

In which your grandmother used to make.

The red upon the petals.

So innocent with life.

The life that is a cherry tomato.

When squeezed,

The life is thrusted from the interior,

And taken from the cocoon

Of protection that it once knew.

The remnants.

Left to dwell on the past

And bellow out their sadness,

In hopes that someone hears,

And bellows back

A mellow sound to cease the tears,

Encased with their fears,

That their life will disappear.

The red upon the petals.

The red, pulsing imprint upon his high cheekbone

As he tells her he does not love her.

Face as red as her anger and hurt.

Though it is not the normal kind of hurt.

It is the hurt of a lover taking another's red away.

The red that was not meant for them,

But for another.

The red upon the petals.

It is a certain hue.

In between a deep shade of cherry,

And the light shade of rose

That he created on her cheeks,

The same day he said he loved her.

That he only wanted her.

When he did not want her.

His lie was as blatant as the red upon the petals

In the meadow she lay on their first date.

The date that was said to be that of fate,

But only ended in hate.

The red upon the petals,

Is not actually of the colour,

But the absence of the love that he gave your mother.

Of the love that he gave another,

In the presence of your mother.

The red upon the petals.