Ode to Pink

I'm reclaiming the colour pink.

Pink is tired of being taken advantage of.
Its name and shade have been branded without its permission.
Its rosy tones have served as weapons of girly destruction and it wants freedom.
The freedom to express itself.
The freedom to shine.
The freedom to saunter, stride and skulk along the sidewalks of life in all of its multihued glory.

Pink wants more out of life.
Pink no longer wants to be shelved after the age of forty.
Pink is tired of being seen as Red's softer, innocent, more agreeable sister and it wants you to know that it's not as sweet as it looks.
Pink is more than spun sugar, scented flowers and frilly dresses.
Pink is thigh-high patent leather boots, mack trucks, and the colour of your tongue as it tastes the creamy centre of your lovers heart.

Pink is standing up for itself and it wants you to know that its musical tastes go well beyond rock and roll. 
Pink wants to be heard, to be seen, and to be used in more interesting ways.

Pink wants to feel the sharp steel of your stiletto as it hits the marble of your new kitchen counter.

Pink wants to be the silk tie that binds your hands behind your back.

Pink wants to know the hum of the two wheeled engine between your legs.

Pink is calling you home.

The question is, are you up to the challenge?