Triggering: Red (Poem, triggering: SH and suicide))

[George^^]

He held the razor hesitantly,
and pressed it down,
drew a line along his wrist,
and watched as the red swelled down,
Red like the roses and the lipstick that reminded him of his ex.

Red that stood out against his skin like stars against the sky.
Red that was too beautiful,
against his ugly self.

It all started with heartbreak,
he had loved too much, still loved too much,[/indent]the first time he had picked up the razor was right after.

He couldn't believe it,
it had felt like dreams,
they were forever,
just like his scars,
just like the

Red that stood out against his skin,
like stars against the sky.
Red that was too beautiful,
against his ugly self.

He held the razor, no longer hesistant,
and pressed it down, with skill,
he drew the first line,
and wrote a story on his skin,
a story about a boy who loved too much,
that got hurt because through all the love he gave,
none was given in return,
he titled the story Red,
because it was

Red that stood out against his skin,
like stars against the sky,
Red that was too beautiful against his ugly self.
Red like the roses he had given her
and the lipstick that had graced her lips.

He held the razor firmly,
and pushed it down with force,
This was to be the ending lines of
his story titled Red,
Can you guess the end?

[oldaccount]

This is great sad but brilliant

[Ennui.]

This is amazing! It is sad and powerful, I could feel the emotions in it and the words that you used allowed for vivid imagery, and all in all it was great.

[Lumos.]

This is really good. I like it. Keep writing!

[better-than-ecstasy]

Ahhhh I'm in love with this! You have such a talent with words! Great job!

[Validity]

Wow, this is amazing! I loved the power behind the words, the emotion, hitting the words just perfectly

Keep writing!
Jay.

[George^^]

Thanks guys! I'm sorry I didn't respond, I actually haven't been on TH a whole lot recently, there is now like, a sister poem to this one, or a continuation... Here it is:

In her hands she held a red rose,
red like the blood that flowed through her viens,
like the lipstick that graced her lips.

He had thought they were forever,
and maybe they once had been,
but her fickle heart did not belong to him.

In her hands she held a red rose,
she pulled it close against her breast,
it was red like his blood,
like the lipstick that graced her lips.

she had never meant to hurt him,
he had once thought they were forever,
and maybe they once had been,
but her fickle heart did not belong to him.

In he hands she held a red rose,
his red rose,
the one that his blood reminded him of,
her lovely lipstick red lips trembled with sobs,
for the boy who had written a story across his skin,
a story titled red.

She had never meant to hurt him,
he had thought they were forever,
but they never had been,
because she had never been truly in love with him,
but he had been with her.

I honestly don't think this one is as good as the first one through.