Red

C
Red is my 

G
favorite 

F
color, red like your 

Am
mother’s eyes 

F
after a 

G
while

  
of 

C
crying about 

G
how you don’t 

Am
love her.

  
She says 

F
“I know I don’t deserve 

C
supervised sight of her

  
but 

G
each day becomes a blur without my 

F
dau

G
ght

Am
er.”

G
 

C
Fall is my 

G
favorite 

F
season, like falling to 

Am
reasoning why

  
you 

F
crashed from on 

G
high. She says 

C
“Why is my 

G
life so 

Am
uneven

F
and what have I done right 

C
but given you your life

  
if 

G
after I led you on into that 

F
ba

G
r r

Am
oom, into that 

F
bar 

G
room?”

C
 

/
 

G
 

C
“Yes” is my 

G
favorite 

F
answer. I took a 

Am
dancer home, she 

F
felt so a

G
lone.

  
We 

C
stayed up all 

G
night in the 

F
kitchen doing my 

Am
dishes, on and 

F
on till the 

G
dawn.

  
She said 

C
“I know it’s 

G
easy to 

Am
have me, 

F
but I have seen some things 

G
that I can’t even

C
tell to my 

G
family 

Am
pictures,”

  
and “I’m full of 

F
fictions and fucking ad

G
dictions” and “I miss my 

C
mo

/
th

C
er.”

/
 

C
 

/
 

  
She’ll never 

C
know I could 

G
never for

F
get her. If I could write her a

Am
letter, I’d try 

F
with every 

G
line to say 

C
“She still re

G
members your 

Am
touch.

  
And I 

Am
know that it’s not 

G
much, I 

C
know that 

G
it’s not 

F
much.

  
I 

Am
know that it’s not 

G
much, but you still haven’t 

C
lost her.”

  
You still haven’t 

C
lo

G
-

F
st 

G
her. You still haven’t 

C
lo

G
-

F
st 

G
her. You still haven’t

C
los

G
t h

F
er 

C
 

/
 

C
 

G
 

F
 

C
 

/
 

C
 

G
 

F
 

C
 Not 

G
yet.