The sting of bitten cuticle bruises. The red rain boots playing in the puddles. The sparkle of bright Christmas bows. The crimson lips that passionately share a kiss under the mistletoe, merry and bright just as the lights strung atop the fireplace. A stop sign, a bold beacon commanding the chaos of a beating heart. Sometimes the red block button, regret and reconsideration of a ruby rose. The ripe apple sitting patiently as it waits for the soft whisper of autumn’s breeze. The nosebleed, running down towards the daring red lipstick. Rather, I am the little ladybug that radiates love, a feeling that swells in the heart.