the color red.

Pressing mangoes against the inside of my teeth

The juice drips, down, 

      down, 

              down.

Chipped nails, dried up thoughts nailed to

The walls inside my mind.

While the flower blooms before our eyes,

Inside our thoughts paint begins to dry.

Jazz that plays loud as day, 

     jigsaw

        Jig jazz, 

               slow jazz, no jazz.