You and I, we are flowers
Flowers of different colors,
Flowers of different origins
Flowers capable of much more
Your color is that of the darkest sunrise,
A suit woven for Ares,
The drops of liquid that ooze
from the wounds of your many victims,
A lipstick worn to kindle lust,
Your color was created in bold font
My color represents a sky filled with rain,
The undiscovered parts of the deep ocean,
A light shirt for frolicking in a meadow,
The tears that roll down the faces of your victims,
The great depths of Neptune,
My color was fabricated in italics
Even though our colors construct mysteries -
Like the grapes that sustain you in your time of rest,
Like the lilacs that are torn from the ground by my cold hands,
Like an amethyst cleaned so well,
The tears and blood
No longer have a trace
Our colors were made separately,
But they were made to blend,
And all we did was kill
Poem by: Me
