Professor Augustine's last
words buzzed in Charlie's
mind as he and Rose walked
through the grand halls.
The cold air enveloped his
face as they exited the building,
almost causing his eyes to tear up
at the iciness.
He needed to get warm soon—
if a bright color shines in your eyes,
do not shoo it away due to your
pain. Let the pain subdue,
and then find the courage to find
peace in this shade.
He stared at Rose, who quietly
walked beside him; her thoughts
occupied her attention, allowing
only muscle memory to steer
the cobbled path underneath her.
She was scribbling down more
ideas for their project, gently
mumbling underneath her scarf
as she wrote.
They were nearing the Victorian
lamp posts that guided students to
the university's park, but
Rose's writing was clutching
on tightly—refusing any other
stimuli to win.
She's going to get hit, Charlie thought
as he watched. There's no way she
won't notice it. She's not going to
notice, is she?
As Rose neared the lamp post,
Charlie reached out, spinning Rose
into his chest with a smile on his face.
"You should really watch where
you are going," Charlie smirked.
"Otherwise, someone might
just do this," he bent down
and kissed her lips.
"My warmth," he whispered
as he brushed with his thumb the little
smudged lipstick from the corner of Rose's
lips. Her eyes beamed at him, subduing
the pain of the wind.
YOU ARE READING
shades of red
Poetrywhen you have too many thorns, all you can do is paint them in red, because, maybe then, they will look like petals [sequel to shades of blue]
