Misconceptions of color began
I heard they ran a shock of blue as cold
as my lips when they touched my last lover,
but the anger I felt during the fallout of
another failed relationship made me certain
veins burned red.
I am grateful for the blood that rises
to the surface of my cheeks.
I am glorious in my heightened emotion,
I overflow with the self-righteousness
awarded from a thousand scars
in the same exact entry position.
I used to ask myself if I'd ever learn.
My tongue whips with the confidence of
Hillary in the light of his scandal;
I let my cheeks burn red but this time
it is his embarassment on display
and I am
The red of my face no longer calls forth
I am the bull, and I have learned the tricks of men.