If this screen could blush, I would be blushing.
I would be shining so red, this red vine would look pale.
A thin black haired Irish woman would be ghostly translucent.
And the page upon which I am writing would burst into flames.
I would be so flamboyantly pink this strawberry liqourice would look blue.
I am blushing through the keys of this phone.
And the page upon which i am thumbing letters would burst into a raging fire in the backyard.
The moon rising red in the sky would be my face telegraphing to the world my feelings.
I am blushing out this color from fingertip pores staining the keypad.
And the page upon which i am not writing has burst into flames.
Luna hanging red in the sky tells the story of me and what i did.
if this screen could blush you would see me blushing.