Depth of Red

The birth of something that never should be

Ignorance is sharp, a bladed kiss.
The taste of copper and crimson tears
The welcoming touch, a storm of sense.
Consciousness stabbing, piercing; aware.

Gossamer dawn births new blood
Breached unwillingly and wounded
Into a realm of red and revolution.
The unwanted pangs of new life brings regret.
The touch of new sin; the rise of an addict.

She is there now, a soft smile of silence eternal.
NO RED, that's for the scholars of sin!
Not me.
Night, light and colour bleed together
A ménage a trois of nothing and everything.
The 'Realm of Red' is of her, of the impossible.
I don't belong but I don't want to leave.