twoblueviolets

i wonder how many times he’s said i love you.//

i wonder how many flowers he’s gifted//, how many 

slow dances he’s danced, the ratio between//

This morning I woke up at six am. The country was bleeding pomegranate red and I, so sure we'd be drinking in a giddy paradise blue, stared blankly for minutes if not hours at the flashing computer screen.

My little sister 

Only 7 years old 

Innocent 

And yet strong willed 

She will grow up 

In this country 

With this president 

This person who calls himself 

When the sons come for me, do not say you are surprised,

For I have taken a vow of pain

Hand flat-placed, an oath, a promise

To fight with pen and soliloquy.

For what is anguish?

Today I've walked around school in a haze

I don't know what to do 

How to feel 

I don't understand

How he won again

I don't think I want to understand

Red:

The color of blood

The color of the hearts that are going to be ripped out

ripped out and thrown aside.

Red,

the color this country became

as of... yesterday?

White: