Wine

Red,I suppose,red wine to be specific on her shade,she asked that we wear red to her funeral, yet I knew black was her god, she adored black, she danced with it, she desired it, her gown had gay flowers, she was dark, even her spark was dim.

So why chose your worst color to your funeral ? Red! Red was the little blood in her body, it was losing virginity, it was cramps that freaking cycle , it was the ribbon that dressed her younger hair, it was the wine sweetness from fermented berries, it was the rose, the flowers her spouse sent to flower her demise_ get well soon! they cried.

Change, she used to ask us for change, to have spicy lives with our partners, to make our foes live with us peacefully, to have our folks proud of angels they natured, to assure everyone that we were normal, to beautifully clone our true identities, to make peace with our worries.

The weird part is we laughed, we laughed out our pains,we laughed out our anger, we laughed out our sorrows, we laughed out our guilt, we laughed out our suffering, we laughed out our joy, we laughed it all out out loud 

But when dusk came in it was only you and you couldn't ask for a night light since the darkness was you, psychopathology defined you, evil looked marvelous on you, you are the bad line, the rotten fruit, the pale disgust, for there's no paint to burry your ways, no one to lie to and perhaps that's why she liked the dark, it was the real her(.....you want to know the worst thought she left us.....it  was her pretty face and the change we endured since she was an alcoholic and we just another bottle.)