The Diary Of A Broken Heart

Red

It is the colour of love,
The reason why the raven was exchanged for a dove;

It is the colour of my favourite wine,
After drinking which I feel like I'm on cloud nine;

It is the colour of blood,
Which suicides and murders flood;

It is the colour Taylor Swift has sung a song about,
It is the colour everyone loves without a doubt;

It is the emoticon that makes butterflies splatter,
The one that leaves the broken pieces scattered;

It is the rose that the beast gave to his beauty,
The warning you get for leaving unperformed a duty;

It is the colour of your eyes after you've wept out the grief,
The colour of a mosquito bite for a time period brief;

It is the scent of my favourite perfume,
The colour of the flowers which bloom;

It is the taste of your lips on a misty Friday night,
The ink we seldom use to write;

It is the colour of the watch you gifted me,
The colour of your favourite cherries on the tree;

It is the scar of a knife cut that shall dry,
Unlike the scar left by a white lie;

It is the colour of the cape the superman wears,
The colour of Captain America's flair;

It is the colour of my bed sheet on our first night,
The colour we wore on our first flight;

It is the colour of the tie which I tied drawing close to your chest,
The colour of the ruling flag in the west;

It is the colour of the curtains in my drawing room,
The seldom occurring blood moon;

It is the colour of heartbreak,
Which you often experience in teenage;

It is the colour of the hues as the sun goes to bed,
It is the colour red.