Gentle Savagery

Colour is the voice of light

like chinese whispers, it distorts

and as it winds through waves

waning, waxing, wailing and whimsical

its words warp.

I am many colours at many times

but moreso than any others

I am red.

I am scarlet, a wound weeping laughter,

I am crimson, livid like napalm,

I am wine and song and neverafters

and I stain when wronged.

Red is the colour of life and sin.

The shade of the carnal and the cardinal.

The lovers intertwined, breath trapped within

an eternity, bound tight in a ruby lipped gasp.

Ecstasy torn alabaster purity asunder, bleeding rose tears

thorned and nectarine atop and deep under where my fears

go to die.

I am a collection of wounds that learned to love

bleeding life that refuses to ebb.

I am passion that dances in the fires that used to burn me

reforged into a weapon of gentle savagery.