Color Me Crimson

November 15, 2011
By PsionicSiren BRONZE, Waterloo, New York
PsionicSiren BRONZE, Waterloo, New York
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

When this feeling enthralls the heart,
You wish for it to never depart.
It takes control and consumes the mind,
Made of the insoluble, it’s one of a kind.
It’s not always truthful, and can be deceiving,
You’re left desolate and frozen, constantly grieving.
But with this cold rain, comes growth with flourishing radiance,
With petals so ardent, it gleams salience.
Its charming touch can create a bubbly swelter,
Its tempting words may erect a stimulating shelter.
It allows two red gems to intertwine and ascend,
For this feeling, whether true or false, it’s hard to comprehend.
How do you know if it’s true you ask?
Just look into your own gem, discard the mask.


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