Rosy red

My Screaming Twenties

The colour of my smile

isn’t the rosy red the fairytales

said it would be.

It’s smeared clear lipgloss

and the salty taste of tears.

It’s yellow, blue or every shade

breathing within a rainbow.

It’s pulled taut, barely shown

or the pearly-white gates on judgement day.

It’s good enough – rosy red or not.

It’s good enough

to be any colour I wish

my happiness to be.

In response to day 6: the colour of ______, #onceuponaseptember

Photograph & poem:© Kristiana Reed 2019

Between the Trees UK

Between the Trees US

Available internationally

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