Her auburn hair fell around her pale face, the colour perfectly reflected in the red and orange of the autumn leaves falling beside her. Her green eyes looked up into the crisp clear sky, but they would never again see. Across the police line he could see the concerned faces, he could hear the whispered questions. After all, it is not everyday that the body of a beautiful teenager is found in this neighbourhood.
He had hair a shade of auburn that looked like fire in the sun
Blue eyes as cold as ice; a single stare enough to stun.
My blood surged with every touch, skin blushing with burning heat
Now this empty bed feels frigid; unignited, incomplete.
Auburn. The color of the autumn leaves surrounding her. As we lay in the grass, a bottle of beer in her hand and a smile splayed across her face. Her dark hair down her back, dark green eyes. A sight of beauty. Of perfection.
She pushed her dark red hair behind her ear and brought the knife down a second time. The being beneath her groaned slightly quieter this time. She sighed and unstuck the blade from his chest. She brought it down once again, stabbing him in the throat. Blood bubbled in his mouth as he breathed it in instead of air.
a mixture of brown and red. when i was younger, it seemed to be an overcomplication, a device used by grown-ups to confuse and obfuscate. then i met a girl with beautiful hair, only describable as auburn. I understand and love words now.
Her skin was dark with natural beauty but all she could see was that she was different. Different isn’t bad sweet heart, especially your kind of different. Better is different.
The hazel eyed baby with the auburn hair. That was my first born. Age has darkened both the eyes and the hair . Twenty years later he is still my pride and joy. I was so grateful to share the most amazing Mother’s day with him today.
auburn. I really dont know what it means. Like does it mean to burn something named au? or is it someone saying “OW! Burrrrn…” I honestly dont know, i should look it up after the 60 seconds is up. auburn.
There was an auburn glow in the west, like the sunsets Jed was used to seeing in his childhood in Montana. The problem was, this was California, and it was morning. The forest fire had grown bigger overnight!
Her hair was like fire.
The way it blew in the wind made her look like she was burning, and yet it made her look like the most beautiful person in the world.
Forget Katniss Everdeen; this is the Girl on Fire.
I stared out into the distance. The sun was setting in the distance, just disappearing under horizon. The water beneath me rocked and splashed against the boat. Auburn water receded from the sun and streaked across the evening sky.
Her hair was auburn, that’s all I can remember. Well, not really all, I remember how she made me feel, just her presence. The way her look could touch my soul. But I cannot for me life remember anymore.
Her lipstick was auburn. My shirt was auburn. The leaves on the ground were auburn. For some reason, this color could not get out of my mind, and everywhere I went all I could think of was auburn.
She had hair a shade of auburn, it was almost a light brown. It was beautiful. Her eyes were deep and dark, and full of interest.. The type of eyes that had depth. The type of eyes that had so many layers of secrets in them, it took years to uncover all of them. Her hair glistened in the sunlight, and her eyes sparkled.
The colour of movie starlets hair but the movies were all black and white. The shine of the sun of the flank of a horse, so unselfconscious and so beautiful. The way a colour should sound.
Auburn is the colour of hair. It is the shimmering sunset at it’s lowest point, just peaking over the horizon, like a whale breaching the surface of the ocean. It is the reflection of fire in dark brown curls, setting the room aglow.
Blue, black and shiny auburn
The colors of daylight when it’s melted down, worth more as a weapon than something as normal as a spoon
Her hair in melting sunlight, before it caught the fire that made it seem either as though she got what she deserved
Or like she was joining the gods who had eventually killed her-
By being there, in her melting daylight brain
She turned, striding down the empty street. Red, orange and yellow leaves scuttled across the sidewalk and crunched beneath her feet. Her black heeled-boots clicked against the concrete. Kari shivered against the cold fall wind as it blew across her face, fanning out her curly auburn hair. She snuggled into her gray wool scarf. The cold was coming in.
It was the white glistening of her skin that brought him to the edge of the water, but the stunning auburn hair floating among the twisted tree branches and debris that made him fall to his knees and weep.
“Joss!” I shouted, running down the stairs into his living room. “Come out!”
I had to admit, the boy was kicking ass at hide and seek. I coudln’t find him and had been looking for a splash of that auburn hair for the past half hour. No luck.
“Please?” I begged, flopping onto the couch as a last futile attempt
That one stupid night tainted it all. Sometimes, it feels good to only care about yourself. Ignore friends, ignore messages, ignore the voices. So you go out, you do it for yourself, you drink the auburn colored alcohol, you dance until you forget it all, you fall asleep like a baby. But then you have to wake up and face all the shit you did before the night turned glassy. Never forget that part.
The clouds drip sunflowers and all I can think of is her eyebrow. That eyebrow that always dances with her eye as they close. Under the lid the sunflowers glow auburn. I wish I could see under her eyelid.
I always thought it was strange how your eyes matched your hair but I loved it anyways, almost as much as the spattering of freckles that made its home on the bridge of your nose. I remember how much you hated the term ‘ginger’ and I would always laugh and remind you that your brown eyes left you out of the running.
The Doctor stared unblinking at the empty space left behind by his red headed companion. The still statue of the angel seemed to mock him with its outstretched finger and his heart broke at the thought of never seeing her shining auburn hair again.
The word haunts me. Why? Where?
if only I could remember, but everything I once was has left me.
I am puzzle, but someone has taken all the interior pieces, leaving me with nothing but an empty shell.
Every time time the memory flashes; auburn hair, I feel the place where by heart use to be ache. A reminiscence of what use to be. A reminder of what is: A hollow cavity. A field of ice.
her hair was the color of burnt auburn, he remembers. the girl who made him laugh and cry and everything else seem grey and flickering, like disconnection on a television, in comparison. auburn. her name suited her.
he remembers loving her a long time ago, a time that he doesn’t remember anymore. it’s a sudden kind of eradiction, a mind wipe, a memory blank — he doesn’t remember the precise texture of her honey color skin and the complicated subtle touches of color that shaded her eyes, like colored pencils in a black and white sketch. she brought life to the world simply because she wanted to.
when she touched the winter leaves, they flamed up scarlet, gold, and black, sputtering into ashes that dwindled into the night sky, as if they had never been, hazing the stars, obscuring the moon into grey. she turned to look at me, that i remember clearly, and then i kicked ashes onto her, and she hissed, going out, flickering away until she was a memory and nothing more. but i loved her, auburn, i remember her, vivid as the summer sky and textured as the ridges of an oil painting. auburn who i loved.
The sun sank slowly below the horizon, leaving a soft auburn glow in the sky. The warm color reflected off of her hazel eyes, wet from staring into the bright star. She was my brightest star.
The glow
of light brings
me the joy of red
and brown
mixed up;
in one piece
of happy
glowing hair
and although
she says
she hates it
I know
that its
not true
its just hair
There are things I talk about that you probably don’t understand. When I talk about the Third Saturday in October, you probably don’t understand the significance of it. Clean, Good Old Fashioned Hate makes you think I’m a racist.
But if you try to understand one thing I say, make sure it is this: WAR EAGLE!
I think her hair was auburn. It’s so hard to remember now, but she definitely had freckles. I’m sure she had freckles. And her nose wrinkled when she laughed. It’s been so long. I think we got married. Perhaps we had children. Yes! The children, they used to visit but they’ve stopped coming now. I’m all alone here, with nothing but broken memories. I wish she was here. I think her hair was auburn.
fantasy and reality rested upon her auburn hair.
not mine. mine was plain.
my hair has always been plain. dark brown, occasionally black. reddish in the sunlight. but that auburn hair haunted men’s dreams a way mine never would
Is a colour that my friend used to say was her hair colour when in reality she was just ginger. Although I mocked her for her auburn her, she was and still I’d one of the most beautiful people I know.
And then her hair turned red as the light in the outer lines of the horizon took fade and disappeared into the darkness of the night.
Her auburn hair fell around her pale face, the colour perfectly reflected in the red and orange of the autumn leaves falling beside her. Her green eyes looked up into the crisp clear sky, but they would never again see. Across the police line he could see the concerned faces, he could hear the whispered questions. After all, it is not everyday that the body of a beautiful teenager is found in this neighbourhood.
He had hair a shade of auburn that looked like fire in the sun
Blue eyes as cold as ice; a single stare enough to stun.
My blood surged with every touch, skin blushing with burning heat
Now this empty bed feels frigid; unignited, incomplete.
Auburn. The color of the autumn leaves surrounding her. As we lay in the grass, a bottle of beer in her hand and a smile splayed across her face. Her dark hair down her back, dark green eyes. A sight of beauty. Of perfection.
She pushed her dark red hair behind her ear and brought the knife down a second time. The being beneath her groaned slightly quieter this time. She sighed and unstuck the blade from his chest. She brought it down once again, stabbing him in the throat. Blood bubbled in his mouth as he breathed it in instead of air.
a mixture of brown and red. when i was younger, it seemed to be an overcomplication, a device used by grown-ups to confuse and obfuscate. then i met a girl with beautiful hair, only describable as auburn. I understand and love words now.
Her skin was dark with natural beauty but all she could see was that she was different. Different isn’t bad sweet heart, especially your kind of different. Better is different.
I close my eyes to witness auburn fireworks twinkle under my eyelid as I smell the morning autumn air.
The hazel eyed baby with the auburn hair. That was my first born. Age has darkened both the eyes and the hair . Twenty years later he is still my pride and joy. I was so grateful to share the most amazing Mother’s day with him today.
auburn. I really dont know what it means. Like does it mean to burn something named au? or is it someone saying “OW! Burrrrn…” I honestly dont know, i should look it up after the 60 seconds is up. auburn.
There was an auburn glow in the west, like the sunsets Jed was used to seeing in his childhood in Montana. The problem was, this was California, and it was morning. The forest fire had grown bigger overnight!
auburn colored leaves flowing in the wind…color of cinnamon…so sweet just the way I like my women. mmmm mm mmm goood! yeah!
Her hair was like fire.
The way it blew in the wind made her look like she was burning, and yet it made her look like the most beautiful person in the world.
Forget Katniss Everdeen; this is the Girl on Fire.
I stared out into the distance. The sun was setting in the distance, just disappearing under horizon. The water beneath me rocked and splashed against the boat. Auburn water receded from the sun and streaked across the evening sky.
Her hair was auburn, that’s all I can remember. Well, not really all, I remember how she made me feel, just her presence. The way her look could touch my soul. But I cannot for me life remember anymore.
Her lipstick was auburn. My shirt was auburn. The leaves on the ground were auburn. For some reason, this color could not get out of my mind, and everywhere I went all I could think of was auburn.
She had hair a shade of auburn, it was almost a light brown. It was beautiful. Her eyes were deep and dark, and full of interest.. The type of eyes that had depth. The type of eyes that had so many layers of secrets in them, it took years to uncover all of them. Her hair glistened in the sunlight, and her eyes sparkled.
I love auburn hair. Only 2 per cent of the world’s population have red hair.
More have blond hair. here is something very appealing about auburn hair.
The colour of movie starlets hair but the movies were all black and white. The shine of the sun of the flank of a horse, so unselfconscious and so beautiful. The way a colour should sound.
Auburn is the colour of hair. It is the shimmering sunset at it’s lowest point, just peaking over the horizon, like a whale breaching the surface of the ocean. It is the reflection of fire in dark brown curls, setting the room aglow.
Blue, black and shiny auburn
The colors of daylight when it’s melted down, worth more as a weapon than something as normal as a spoon
Her hair in melting sunlight, before it caught the fire that made it seem either as though she got what she deserved
Or like she was joining the gods who had eventually killed her-
By being there, in her melting daylight brain
She had the auburn hairthat was like the gold andred leave of autum. The colors of are college where we met.
She turned, striding down the empty street. Red, orange and yellow leaves scuttled across the sidewalk and crunched beneath her feet. Her black heeled-boots clicked against the concrete. Kari shivered against the cold fall wind as it blew across her face, fanning out her curly auburn hair. She snuggled into her gray wool scarf. The cold was coming in.
It was the white glistening of her skin that brought him to the edge of the water, but the stunning auburn hair floating among the twisted tree branches and debris that made him fall to his knees and weep.
“Joss!” I shouted, running down the stairs into his living room. “Come out!”
I had to admit, the boy was kicking ass at hide and seek. I coudln’t find him and had been looking for a splash of that auburn hair for the past half hour. No luck.
“Please?” I begged, flopping onto the couch as a last futile attempt
That one stupid night tainted it all. Sometimes, it feels good to only care about yourself. Ignore friends, ignore messages, ignore the voices. So you go out, you do it for yourself, you drink the auburn colored alcohol, you dance until you forget it all, you fall asleep like a baby. But then you have to wake up and face all the shit you did before the night turned glassy. Never forget that part.
Never forget the people who matter.
The clouds drip sunflowers and all I can think of is her eyebrow. That eyebrow that always dances with her eye as they close. Under the lid the sunflowers glow auburn. I wish I could see under her eyelid.
I always thought it was strange how your eyes matched your hair but I loved it anyways, almost as much as the spattering of freckles that made its home on the bridge of your nose. I remember how much you hated the term ‘ginger’ and I would always laugh and remind you that your brown eyes left you out of the running.
The Doctor stared unblinking at the empty space left behind by his red headed companion. The still statue of the angel seemed to mock him with its outstretched finger and his heart broke at the thought of never seeing her shining auburn hair again.
The word haunts me. Why? Where?
if only I could remember, but everything I once was has left me.
I am puzzle, but someone has taken all the interior pieces, leaving me with nothing but an empty shell.
Every time time the memory flashes; auburn hair, I feel the place where by heart use to be ache. A reminiscence of what use to be. A reminder of what is: A hollow cavity. A field of ice.
her hair was the color of burnt auburn, he remembers. the girl who made him laugh and cry and everything else seem grey and flickering, like disconnection on a television, in comparison. auburn. her name suited her.
he remembers loving her a long time ago, a time that he doesn’t remember anymore. it’s a sudden kind of eradiction, a mind wipe, a memory blank — he doesn’t remember the precise texture of her honey color skin and the complicated subtle touches of color that shaded her eyes, like colored pencils in a black and white sketch. she brought life to the world simply because she wanted to.
when she touched the winter leaves, they flamed up scarlet, gold, and black, sputtering into ashes that dwindled into the night sky, as if they had never been, hazing the stars, obscuring the moon into grey. she turned to look at me, that i remember clearly, and then i kicked ashes onto her, and she hissed, going out, flickering away until she was a memory and nothing more. but i loved her, auburn, i remember her, vivid as the summer sky and textured as the ridges of an oil painting. auburn who i loved.
The sun sank slowly below the horizon, leaving a soft auburn glow in the sky. The warm color reflected off of her hazel eyes, wet from staring into the bright star. She was my brightest star.
The glow
of light brings
me the joy of red
and brown
mixed up;
in one piece
of happy
glowing hair
and although
she says
she hates it
I know
that its
not true
its just hair
There are things I talk about that you probably don’t understand. When I talk about the Third Saturday in October, you probably don’t understand the significance of it. Clean, Good Old Fashioned Hate makes you think I’m a racist.
But if you try to understand one thing I say, make sure it is this: WAR EAGLE!
I think her hair was auburn. It’s so hard to remember now, but she definitely had freckles. I’m sure she had freckles. And her nose wrinkled when she laughed. It’s been so long. I think we got married. Perhaps we had children. Yes! The children, they used to visit but they’ve stopped coming now. I’m all alone here, with nothing but broken memories. I wish she was here. I think her hair was auburn.
fantasy and reality rested upon her auburn hair.
not mine. mine was plain.
my hair has always been plain. dark brown, occasionally black. reddish in the sunlight. but that auburn hair haunted men’s dreams a way mine never would
Is a colour that my friend used to say was her hair colour when in reality she was just ginger. Although I mocked her for her auburn her, she was and still I’d one of the most beautiful people I know.
she sits in the tree
with a book in her hand,
oblivious to his wistful stare
he wishes for her eyes,
for her touch, for her love
and he pines after her auburn hair.
“What color is your hair?”
“Auburn.”
“Auburn?”
“Sort of like a…reddish brown.”
“Like…ketchup and chocolate mixed together?”
Charlie smiled and scratched his dead. “Maybe not so dark of red. But it’s fine.”
The boy grinned, picked up his white cane, and waved goodbye.
Scotland in the winter, gold face of bright sun a girl with auburn hair the woman I truly love.