November 06, 2023


Dear ghost, 

If you ask me, "what colour I am made of?" Red, I would say, Just as the hue fading at the corner of rainbow. Like the colour riding on the flames. Like the colour sleeping on the autumn's leaf. Like the colour burning in the twilight. Like the colour swallowing the rose. Like the tint in the blood spiraling in the crystal water. Just as the hue drowning in an auburn hair. Just as the soft hue blooming on a maidens cheeks. Of all the colour I know and adore, red embraces me and my feiry emotions.

Yours even as I fear to be.