Painted White, Dripping Red

For the red flags can never truly be concealed or changed

Image edited by author on Canva

Fell for the words and stayed for the same.
If actions were truly what she looked at,
She would be baffled at everything she let slide.

Her friends tell her that “he’s no good.”
Tears stain her cheeks and soak the pillows.
But his words still have her in a crushing chokehold.

Every blood red flag that he hoisted,
She lovingly dipped in barrels of white.
Refusing to see the crimson, drowning in love.

Everyone around her, worried or angry,
For being this blind seems implausible.
She continued the dance, losing her sanity.

Years had passed in an insane stupor.
He drained her slowly of all she was.
Isolated in a world that was once everything to her.