RED
I don't think I could be happy if I couldn't get angry.
Red isn't my favorite color but God is it luxurious to feel,
to roll around in,
to have and to hold.
My anger is like a velvet cape
and the world around me is winter.
Words snap at my skin
like an electric whip and I scream
but all I can hear, all I allow myself to hear,
is the sound of velvet against skin.
Who would I be, had I been silent?
Who would I be if I could not scream?
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