Would love to post more if anyone is interested. Just looking for feedback.

When I Was Black and Blue

You could’ve brought me red roses —

that’s what most people do.

They mean what they’re supposed to mean,

they’re safe and simple too.

They sit in little paper wraps,

they never ask for proof.

They say, “This is the normal kind.

This one will last. It’s smooth.”

Red roses don’t require much —

just timing and a plan.

They’re what you buy for any girl

when you want to be the man.

But I have never been that red,

never that clean or new.

I’ve always lived in quieter shades

of silver, black, and blue.

You once talked about darker blooms,

ones no one here could find —

not black like something ruined,

not blue like left behind.

Just colors edged in shadow,

still shining through the bruise —

the kind you only think to bring

if you’ve been paying attention to.

And that’s the part that stayed with me —

not petals, not the hue —

but being seen in every shade

I don’t show everyone I knew.

They say we look convincing.

They say it makes sense too.

They say if he would never leave,

then maybe I should choose.

But staying isn’t choosing

if it’s built on being safe.

And safety isn’t love

if I’m shrinking just to stay.

I don’t want red for comfort.

I don’t want safe because it’s true.

I don’t want to bloom in colors

that were never meant for me to use.

I’ve already tried to bloom in red

when I was black and blue.

I won’t do that again —

even if the red

would never leave me too.

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