Red

Red.
The love I had for you was red.
The sweet girl who sat quietly in the back of the room.
So beautiful.
So pure.
Red.
The feeling of absolute adoration I got when I saw your beautiful smile was red.
There was always something unknown gleaming in your magnificent eyes.
So happy.
So loving.
Red.
The feeling of utter heartbreak when your sleeve run up just enough to expose your fresh painting, was red.
Still you smiled that perfect smile of yours, only now I could see what that glimmer was.
It was pain.
A silent call for help.
So quiet.
Yet still so deafening.
Red.
The soul-crushing pain I felt when I saw your blood-shot eyes and tiresome smile was red.
So weak.
Yet still so beautiful.
Red.
The feeling of heart-breaking panic I got when your mother's frantic voice asked if you were with me was red.
Pleading,
Hoping.
Red.
The tears staining my cheeks and swollen eyes as I stood at your freshly-dug grave, next to your
weeping mother, were red.
Sorrowful, yet
Happy.
Red.
The bitter-sweet comfort that came with knowing you were in a better place and you were finally truly happy, was red.
Red.
I was Red.
And so were
You.