Red .4 – Flick

 

I run my fingers
through thick strands
of red silk.
I comb it back,
away from your eyes.
Emerald eyes look
towards the ceiling.

You’re thinking about
something.
I can tell because
your nose is crinkled.
I brush your hair back again
you smile slightly.
I want to flick your nose.

So I do.

Apparently you don’t
appreciate my love.

Another in my Red series. 

I feel like I’m my past couple Red poems I’ve strayed from my voice and I feel like I have it back with this one. 

© 2017 Roo Sinclair / Molly Nash

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