Red

Published on Fauxhouse by Ti 1/2/2024

It had been easy at first. The first sprouts flourished in dedicated pots, the soil its original home. And when they bloomed, the poppies were as red as a painting on display. Bright, present, and sitting outside of yourself.

Two pots weren’t enough, but you didn’t have room for a proper garden so you doubled the pots and let them reach the floorboards of the porch, the screen of the door, and the whites of your eyes. When they bloomed again, they were as red as a sunset. Vibrant, alive, and just out of reach.

But this still wasn’t enough so you dumped the soil everywhere. The kitchen with the dirty dishes that could never get clean, the bedroom that never had enough light, and the bathroom whose door could never lock right. In your dreams, you swallowed the dirt along with gold and the red sea parted for your thoughts. You were Eden and the poppies bloomed as red as a promise.