Black, White, Red

You say she says you are black and white.

I say I am full of colour.

Shall I become grey to suit her description,

Or will you become technicolor?

She is right, she knows you well.

Me, I'm full of pain - and pain has all the colours, including the colour passion.

You say passion is good, but you can not know it because you are colour blind; you are black and white, you said she said so.

Being  WOMAN, I am colour; I know that passion is Red.

And now I am Red.

I am  RED.  I am ANGRY.

You see time as linear and you say that we were long ago; do you feel safe in your distance? 

You see yourself apart, but you are not, because a part of you belongs to me.  Is that part of me that belongs to you vital organ or is it limb?  I wonder.

I want that part that belongs amputated and cut away.  Like you I had thought it had died long, long, ago, but I was wrong; it only took one look and it lives again.

Will I die or will I live when you go? Will I become androgynous or will I stay woman, broken and open abuse?

Anyway you look at it, I am damaged goods.

All my love xx