She picks the red paper
this time, glancing over


classic yellows and mild purples.


Fearful of its sharp edges,
She holds it with care.

It demands her passion,
her deep concentration.

She pushes on the crease.
It slides with ease.

She grabs the scissors,
starting at one end.

In a straight line,
the blade smoothly
divides the paper,

then she curves her wrist
the ruby paper bends
in awkward surprise.

She pulls back.
Cuts from a new angle
and it slices into shards.

She drops the scissors,
blinks at what she’s made.

Its limp body slowly creaks open.

With fingertips she places
the crimson in her hands,
as her heart unfolds.