I was already seeing red.
Your hair, the walls, the inside of my head - all red.
I was taken from the early morning.
Barely 20 years then and you threw me
on to my own tranquility
like I was your old pillow.
I was held down.
Too faint to fight, you kept me
like a butterfly in a bell jar.
I was alone.
Paisley dress in the corner,
candles blown out,
seeing red but wanting white.