Red (a Poem by me)

Of love and of life,
 My mightiest lie
You grace to say,
You were once mine,
 But has ne’er really been,
For I belonged—in a long, long a
Chasm, like a foetus in a bottle
 And awaiting the pain of a throttle.
 
My dearest, you’ve betrothed me,
As I have you.
 It was a fair folly of yours,
For I was none, but a dead corse.
Penning this in remorse,
I shall blemish this mottled brown,
 With Red.