Dear Red,

 

I see the madness in your eyes,

The insanity, the love.

It’s a not matter of the chicken or the egg,

But what came first?

Is it lust?

 

When you said “I do,”

Did you really love me?

Or was it corrupted love,

Did you think you love me?

 

You’re bipolar

Unlike blue, always calm (despite the oxymoron of being blue)

Unlike green, always exploring and reaching to grow

Unlike yellow, always happy and radiates her positive energy

Unlike pink, always shy and hiding away

Unlike white, innocent

Unlike black,

 

No,

You’re different.

 

Unlike the rest you feel

Your emotions are unbalanced

But tied.

 

Who can tell what you really mean?