Blood-red Sunday

A day dedicated to love –
Sometimes I can’t tell if it’s for the abuse of love or its celebration.

The Love I know is blood-red and disfigured,
Lacking the sweetness of chocolates and the beauty of red roses.

The Love I know is naked and priceless,
It’s value hidden in virtue, not in the price-tags of fancy red dresses.

Published by WovenWords

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