I write in rosy red tonight:
In bloody, rosy red.
As red as any sunrise
Over any bridal bed.

I write on plain white paper:
In perfect, shineless white.
As white as every snowflake
Through any brilliant light.

I pour my heart out love, dear love.
Though not right now to you.
But know my love I think tonight
Of nobody but you.

All the stories, all the men
They drift away to nothing
When you stand next to them.
In my drunken imagining.

So I write in red tonight,
With dark red in my veins
And cruel red in my wineglass
To wash away my pain.

On rugs of softest violet
In rooms of faintest pink.
I’ll tell you what I feel, my love
I’ll write you what I think.

I feel as though we’re kept apart
By age long rules and rites
All these kisses keep me sane
They light the darkest nights.

I wish that I could see you, love
I’m sorry for today.
We’d be red, by now, my love.
If I could have my way.

And on this paper – white and pure
I’ll write in purple-red.
So I’ll ask you if you’re sure before
I climb into your bed.

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