Love in technicolor

Baptize me in your blue eyes. Engulf me in the depths of your cerulean sea. With each curling wave, I whisper “this must be love,” as the water fills my lungs. The lower I sink, the more alienated I become from the beautiful shades of aquamarine that drew me in.

From a bright green vine, our love had grown. I slowly realized the fruits of our labor were closer to the forbidden fruit eaten in the garden of Eden. And yet, I savored every juicy bite. Even after your touch became a cruel freezing winter, gripping down into the roots of what we once had.

Golden rays of sun once caressed my skin. The warmth had thawed out my cold, weary heart. I hadn’t even realized that I had begun to dry out, the heat became too much to bare. Once the yellow finally descended on the horizon, I was left sunbleached and damaged. Eyes burnt from staring too intently.

You forged me in your warm orange flames, I became malleable to your touch. I allowed you to mold me into whatever shape you wanted, trusting that I would then be strong and fortified. But I only became brittle, sensitive to every gentle touch. My whole body became a weapon.

Our love is a setting sun, red velvet curtains cascading across the sky, closing after the last act. Our love was but a tragedy, the audience groaning in horror in each new scene. Not a scarlet single rose thrown upon the stage at our feet.