ruĝa rubando

in lots of old legends between lovers
and crappy fanfictions written by desperate teenagers
there is a red ribbon tied on someone’s finger
reaching out into the horizon

a rouge highway of sorts
for longing, for lust, for love
tied to a stranger, an estranged lover
a person trying desperately to forget

there is a scratch on my shoulder
from a night about a year ago
spent in the forest with a ghost
with a smirk on his face
and strawberries on his lips to taste

maybe my red ribbon is frayed
maybe it’s worn out
maybe someone cut it a long time ago


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