It Won't Kill You
You and your glass heart
and your disdain
for foolhardiness
that has kept you behind
closed doors.
You, swimming
in teal, ocean, cornflower
and all the other blues,
preaching monochrome glory.
You, running
a line through your best words.
I’m sorry you’re locked up.
Sometimes you want
a thing so badly
that it grows a knife
and presses it against your neck.
I’m telling you
to step into the cool bite of it
and bleed just a little.
Red!