Red is the crystals of sugar that fall
From Sour Punk strands as I slide them out
Of their crinkly plastic wrapping.
You're my red, coating my fingers in you.
Red is lip balm, strawberry-flavoured, buttery smooth,
Shared between us with a kiss,
My lips still shiny after
Days have passed.
You're my red, your memory lingers on my lips.
Red is blood drawn from my lips
By nibbling, nervous teeth.
Dry skin gives way, opening the floodgates
As that sharp, almost salty taste
Dances on my teeth
And on my tongue.
You're my red, always there when I'm in pain.
