A warm sunny day is the coldest day of the year I look at this heart in my hands and remember the day we were told I should have said yes to the cold and sorrow as many will show us tomorrow. It was not my fault, his eyes were brown and borrowed. I hid my face and pretended to not know, the color of blood ran down his temple to his jaw as he sat staring at me. A sunny day, golden sky, and red clouds The color of blood came to me in repulsive unnerving thoughts What could I do? His mouth grew feral with a smile as he told me the story of the girl who hid once in a while. My heart denied the color of blood I was there, I could not lie. As the man who had told me the story sat waiting I stole a glance at his eyes once more, His eyes were now red and brown. The color of blood chases me, A river of blood is my war. I tell you of this man, for if you see him, tell him, I do not hide anymore.
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