red.

i am the liquid pumping through your veins

the pastel warmth on your cheeks

the rose in your garden that smells of dirt but the sweet, organic kind

the smeared lipstick on your pillow from last night

the letter slipped under your door sealed with wax

the tiny cross on the nurse's hat as she covers your mouth with air

the second's hand on a clock seeming to tick the slowest

the leaves drifting in the autumn wind

the stone on your finger

the warning labels you ignore

the summer berries

i am blood. vitality. sex. passion.