Friday, September 28, 2012

Red. White.

It was about five inches wide
A bold blood red line
Trailing in the wind, against the shadow
Hiding from the sunbeams

Softened by yards of white
The red line carried wrinkles
Familiar ones; the ones you own
And a smell perfectly overpowering

It ended in a tear unplanned
Caused by a rebellious nail
No one told you. No one cares
 About a nonchalant birthmark

You wore that red for decades
And carried the white like burden
Your face became unknown and unfamiliar
In the multitude of reds and whites

No ceremony or announcement
Your departure was as silent
As your inconsequential arrival
All they did was leave you with your red

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