Crimson Hurricane


Play my arm like a violin.
A jagged knife and pale white skin.
Melancholic hymn,
Crimson tint.



We couldn’t cope.

Because I only saw the good he did for me, ignored the bad and felt only happiness.
While he’d only remembered my tears; of which I remember naught, took the weight on his shoulders and crumbled.

We didn’t last.

Because till this day, I am tormented by feelings I cannot explain due to my carelessness.
While he, saddled with his own distraught, had chosen to disappear from everything we had.