RED

I lacquer my nails in crimson because it gives me a sense of control.

I drink the same shade to ease it.

Does it help?

COPE.

I held the dark night of a soul in a journal of scarlet. I write in a new color now, but the hue remains.

Does it leave?

PROCESS.

I lost a love because our colors were too many. Because I rejected colors of my own.

Do you forgive me?

WOMAN.

I am one by evidence of a monthly blood. One if only defined by mere anatomy.

Can I be more?

RAGE.

I never learned to be angry. Never taught. Never permitted.

Can I still learn?

PLEASE.

I exhibit and exude all that is asked of me. All that is expected. Required.

Is it enough for you?

LOSS.

I carve to fit your standard. Your vicious, asinine standard. And so my body suffers.

Is it only the body?

CONTROL.

I don’t seem to know it. Never met its likeness. And so I will continue in red.

RED.

Do you know control?