It's that dangerous red, the heartbreaking kind, the shade that you know is trouble. The color of our fire trucks, the lipstick on our whores, the blood that pumps through our veins.
Red.
There's nothing so eye catching as the bright red of dawn, the early morning red that spreads like new found hope over the muted grays that the pre-dawn spews all over.
Red.
Luscious and lethal, the siren shade that reminds of what we'd all like to be, if we could get half a chance at clawing our way out of our rutted, fetid lives.
Red.
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