Red loves blue.
It’s no surprise:
she knows they look good together
And red – well, she is vain.
Blue longs to dress in the sky:
to borrow the colours from the clouds
because the way they drift carelessly looks warm,
while longing looks lonesomely at the wind
jealous of the places it visits.
Jealousy nearly burns the toast as she makes breakfast
because she forgot about the stove
when she wondered if orange tasted better than green,
even as orange waited anxiously at her doorstep,
scuffing his sneakers against the frame,
afraid that his hair was out of place,
and this was what red saw,
when she looked out her window on an autumn morning
and wondered if she loved orange
after all.

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