Simply Complex, Red

one color, expressed in many shades, Incarnadine, so dark it could be brown, Falu, the shade you didn’t even realize existed, Crimson, the charred remains of something long
Forgotten

Geranium
It is the squeak of the floor tiles in the school hallway, after a rainy day
His hand shaking as he nervously opens his lock
The paint on his fingernails, his small act of rebellion that he knows he’ll regret

The loud laughs of every person he passes, and soft whispers
It is the mark on his arm after they push him around on his way to class

It is the giant F on the chemistry test, he was to depressed to study for
It is the blood seeping from a crack in his lip, after accidently running into the captain of the football team got him punched

It is the crunch of the barely cooked pasta his parents left him in the fridge to eat alone because they are too embarrassed to eat with him
The pen gliding over a piece of paper, his suicide note

The sunrise of his last day, or so he thought
It is the new boy’s nail color, just like his
the courage he summoned to help the boy as he was being pushed around
it is the warmth of his sweaty, nervous hand, the knowing looks they share and the laughs of a budding love

The silk of their voices as they both sing in his car on the way to his house
It is the regret of what he almost did when he finds the note written weeks ago, the new strength of his hand as he
rips it up and throws it out
It is a boy saved

Scarlet
It is the sharp snap as the old flip phone is split in two, leftover, from the night he was just pushed to far
Her mother’s laptop breaking, fighting so loud she had to cover her ears, waking up the neighbors

It is the sound of the screeching tires as he leaves in hast and the smell of rubber they leave behind
It’s the light from the cop car, blurred through angry, terrified tears
The scratch of her grandmother’s carpet floor as she lies awake

The silence when he tells her about himself, a boy hurt
The smell of the car freshener filling the space as she realizes they have a connection, a connection neither of them can afford to lose
The silent forgiveness when she finally understands, the warmth of a hug after the first time she called him dad and all the times after

Rust
It is the pigment of her new blush as she puts on her makeup in the morning
the needle of the scale flicking back and forth and the disappointment at the number it lands on, The smell of bacon and eggs her mom made for her and the nervous edge of her voice when she lies saying she’ll eat at school

It the strain of her fake smile as she prepares herself for another day, the phony personality she uses when she‘s with her friends or family

The bitter taste of the bare piece of lettuce she has for lunch, the hungry grumble of her stomach begging for more and her refusal to
give in

The screaming denial as her mother begins to suspect, she doesn’t have a problem, she just doesn’t want to eat, the soothing voice of the therapist for the weeks to follow
It is the savory taste of the eggs she starts to eat again and the dressing she drowns her salad in, just a little different now
It is her real smile

Poppy
It the eucalyptus smell of the cough drops she left at midnight to get him, the cherry taste of Benadryl in the spring, when his allergies are bad, as he sips it from the little cup she hands him

The scab she told him not to pick and the bug bite she said not to scratch
The regret for all the times he said I hate you and the wishing he could take them all back

the feel of the teddy bear’s fur rubbing against him face whenever he was sad for the past 14 years, the teddy bear she got him

The pain she takes away with her radiant love that he can feel all the way to the tips of his toes, the warmth of her palm squeezing his as they crossed the street

A realization, that she was the only one there for him every time

Maroon
The raw skin leftover from my nervous habit, picking my thumbs until they bleed the color of that blood

A million crushes and 999,999 rejections, the tears singing my eyes when I realize the one I thought was different turns out to be just like the rest
The heat of them rolling over my lids when I realize he was never really been mine

The smell of the vanilla candle I wish to use to burn away whatever wasn’t good enough
The embarrassment as I stand in a grocery line, waiting as the WIC checks are read and the food stamps are counted
My hands clinging nervously to the cart, hoping no one I know sees me

My fear of fireworks, the too dark, heights, and public speaking
My knee, my foot always nervously jumping up and down probably even now as I read this
The salty taste of tears I taste a little too much

Fuzzy Wuzzy
The passion that fills every cell of my body as I sing out, as I let everyone hear my voice
The blinding light of the spotlight, every eye on me, my sweaty palms almost dropping the microphone, the stench of a million bodies in the audience, the journey singing takes me on, the applause cascading me holding me high upon its shoulders

The pride when I see all “A”s on my report

It is the light in his eyes I hold so dearly to, the smell of his hair, the protectiveness I feel, for my autistic brother
The dainty lips of a boy when smiling that makes everyone else smile too, the mental pictures that will last forever. Because he won’t sit still long enough to take a real one
My special little boy

it is voice I’ll never know, a cotton smell I’ll never know, the warmth of a hug I’ll never feel
it is the flowers on his gravestone below the 2 month gap
The loss of a brother I never knew, that I will never know

the tickle of my hair on my shoulders when I am brave enough to where it down, the floor feeling steadier, the sweetness of the donut I usually wouldn’t eat for fear of weight

It is the brush burns I get after my brothers show me a YouTube jump scare video and I fall to the floor laughing
The softness of that dress I just got the courage to where, and the complements I never thought I would get

The dizziness after my baby brother comes over to me, and only me, to spin him around and around
The smell of new books as I sit down in the middle of an aisle in Target to read one because we don’t have the money to buy it and the fact that I’m not embarrassed

The sound of laughter as I spill another drink in another restaurant, my own included
It is the lipstick of strong women who had to hold a whole family together and the legacy she leaves behind
The brick wall of support I didn’t even know I had

Red
It is the felling of exposure,
it is a bad thing turned good
Red is an array of colors, emotions

It is a stepdad, a boy saved, a girl’s smile, a brother, a mom, the taste of tears, a brick wall
It the smells, the tastes, the sounds, the feelings of an experience

Red is the hope you enjoyed, the nervousness that you won’t like this, that’ll you’ll hold it all against me, that you won’t understand
It is the feel of these papers in my shaking hand, the rush of my words, and the smell of this room

Simply Complex
Red