I remember you saying red was fire the night we first made love and I was so confused that I asked what were you talking about and you started rambling; you said red was fire and passion and love and rage and apple. You said red was such a complex colour that you didn't understand why it wasn't everyone's favourite when it pops out at you and grabs you. You said red was how you felt when things got too complicated and how you screamed when everything was out of control and how you loved when someone was your whole life.

And I laughed because I didn't get it; but then you left. You left and all my senses were red. Red red red red. And yes, I guess you were right, red is so many things. Red is fury and hurt and blood.

Red is the colour of my hair and my nails and my lipstick and even my cheeks because I'm burning without you.



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