They are red

The only beings I see
Are those behind your red eyes,
Which I love more as a muddy brown,
Mysterious yet fun,
But now lost in some unknown fury?
A taste for vengeance?
My love, whom do you cry for?
Night after night,
Soaking pillows wet,
Rocking on your own in a corner of the room
Clenching your fists till your palms bleed red,
Dragging your nails across your skin,
Screaming for the pain to just, please,
Stop.
For sometime.
A moment to breathe would have been nice.
But the brown eyes, soft skin, clear smile hide
Behind red eyes, red blood, red skin,
I see the beings behind the red,
I can still love you the same or more
If you just let them out or me in at your door.

Tall drink of water

It's all gray, the smoke curling up,
Off the cigarette, menthol infused,
Off my skin, peeling and charred,
It's all gray, like my vision into the beyond.

Even this is gray, my once-red lungs,
Tarred with the smoke taken in, no breaks,
Even this is gray, my bedsheet, my pillows,
But wet with gray tears shed for some reason.

If only those tears could be red.
If only I had the strength,
To drag myself out of bed,
To do anything other than watch the ash
Pile up and up and up.

Gray embers of what might have been
But never will be because now even I,
Am reduced to ash.
All because I forgot,
A simple err in the long sojourn on the bed,

To take that tall drink of water
With some bright red pill
To bring back the colours in my life
That I no longer remember how to paint.