Red

You can find me
when you finally
tear through yourself...

... when it finally surfaces
in a run of four-letter words
and fumbling fingers...

... it's in a glass always
kept full and those
sweet nothings
become obsolete,
lost in swollen
lips and limitless
wants.

It's not in
what we need...

Those shades
have already fallen
through the skylight.

We're beyond that.
We've crossed that line.

No turning back now,
because
it's the point of no return.

Breath me in
and
lets do this.