The blazing red of the sun saying au revoir for the day, making me thank God for ending the day.
The muted red of my nail tips, already chipping, pitfalls of having a basin full of vessels.
The bright red of Maybelline’s Pure Reds, counteracting the pixie-ness of my hair cut.
The cheery red of my favorite shirt, that I reserve for tortuous Mondays.
The earthy red of the soil that coats the underside of my bellies,
bringing a smile to my face, the impending rains.
The dirty red of graffiti on my phone cover, reminding of the sweetiepie who gifted it to me.
The sharp red of my hair flicks, as sharp as the statement I’m trying to make.
The fiery red of bell peppers, that is strangely misleading.
The streaked red of my eyes that mirror the blues of a typical Monday I feel inside.
The rich red of the kumkum on my friend’s forehead.
The happy red of her choor(d)e, that tinkle merrily, distracting me from my Mining Equipment file.
The fake red of the ketchup I push away at lunch.
The deep red of the drop of blood that my cat elicits during a play session.
The worn-out red of the carpet, trodden under the feet of a hundred people.
The angry red I see when I spy typos.
The clean red of my bedsheets as I sink into them, willing the week to disappear into the long weekend.