Red Carpet
A Floor Stained With Blood
The red carpet looks
More like blood than
Rose petals when you’re
Standing on it with your
Arm linked with hers and I’m
Wearing a dress the colour
Of a midnight ocean but
You’re too busy thinking
She’s the sun to care
❀
The garden is crowded
The hugs are fake and
All I can do is search for you
Out of habit in an attempt
At closure because of
The way you made me think
Love was a floor stained
With blood
❀
I wrote and
I withered
And I wept
And you walked
Past me like all
I did was say goodbye
When you never even
Gave me the chance to
❀❀❀❀❀
If you enjoyed this please read more of my poetry and prose:
About the Creator
Poppy
poetry in progress
Center Stage with Paul Stewart
*** I'm keen to republish the interviews I did for my series with Vocal creators. It's been a few years and I thought it might be nice to revisit these wonderful conversations. I'll be releasing them one at a time for a few weeks/months.
By Heather Hubler3 days ago in Interview
Comments (2)
Open wounds, blood flowing forth.
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