Jealousy Is Red

You Saw Red

She came into being between your bloody thighs But you felt alone, your mother dead and No where to turn. He looked at her, pinkish with auburn hair. You saw red.

She ran through the grass barefoot, Climbing trees, out the window to sit On the porch roof. She was free. You hit red.

She jumped away from you Into a dollhouse Laying her face open As she lay there bleeding, He saw red.

Over the years she ran away from You and the red you hit with, Talked with, lived with. She left and a part of him Went with her. You saw green.

She didn’t come back for years Siblings forgotten, family lost, Still she didn’t return. You saw nothing.

“Come home,” he said. First time ever. She took the first flight She came back. By his side. You saw tears.

“Take her,” he said. “No one else will.” “Take her, please,” he asked. She saw sorrow.

You railed and cried Tried to climb into his bed. He died in both of your arms. She saw hurt.

You refused to come. You tried alone. All alone. He was gone. You called. She saw despair.

She made your food. Made you a home. Heard your hate. She saw the anger.

Slowly, you came back To the times You walked barefoot. She saw hope.

Through the years, She tended your hurts and You talked about your fears She saw friendship.

Your hands the same, She gripped them tight As she saw you last And you saw her. You saw love and She saw her mother.