It should have been red.

Far into the door
one glass of hope sits quietly
in colors uncertain
his sky is drawn

Dusty its face
of streams and butterflies
a smell of rose and plumeria
galloping in love is she

So two the sweets pair
buried under a hallow escape
the sheer grabbing of desire
oosing from their lips

That shape a heart 
this place in pink
a dunkin donut
that should have been red.