Time to make some smoothie packs.
It’s everywhere, the color of the falling leaves, the fire dancing in the fireplace. It’s the lazy man’s way of describing a woman’s strawberry blonde hair, her cardinal shoes, her scarlet dress, and if I’m lucky, her rose-colored lingerie she picked out before she got dressed…I hope he likes this, she says. It’s the color of her cheeks, flushed with excitement, her lips pressed against her wineglass with that lipstick she knows I love so much.
It’s the color of the emotions I get when I see that her ex showed up. When he makes that stupid offensive statement that’s got her shelling up.Who the fuck’s this guy think he is? I’ll have him in a crimson mask before this night is done. It’s the color that I see when I look to see my bank account’s empty…shit, babe. Looks like I’m doing some dishes tonight. Take a seat. I’ll handle it, beautiful. It’s the color of the rose that I picked for her especially for this night.
It’s the color that she’s leaving all over my back, the color that she feels when her pulse picks up, when I say to her mark me up, draw a heart, make a waterfall, spell your name, beautiful, I’m almost there.
Whoops. Might have kids seeing this. haha
You feel it when you’re losing her…when she’s walking away. She cant’ take anymore. She’s fed up. When you shout, baby please, baby no, baby COME BACK, you feel that heat coming out of you. When she leaves, it’s the color that flushes out of your heart. What can you even do now?
And whenever you see another rose, it’s what reminds you of her.
Bringing this back.
Fuck this is the funniest thing ever