Literary (Submission): Red

5/26/2018 09:11:00 PM Media Center 0 Comments

“This was the color of the world where only the two of us lived in.”

I was red the very first time we met, with my cheeks turning into that bright hue. I was flustered, to say the least, by your mere presence.

You were red. With that masculine and sturdy posture, you were the physical form of attraction and I couldn’t help myself from being drawn to you.

Red was the color of the lips you used to tell me all the things I wanted to hear. You had a way of always knowing what to say; to calm me down, to allure me, to keep me sane.

Red was the flower you gave me when we met for the third time. I realized then and there, that time doesn’t really forge strong relationships for two weeks was enough to make me want to stay with you, forever.

Red was the passion that held us together. We became inseparable after just a few months. A fast process, many say and people thought we weren’t going to last, saying that young flames burn out faster. But who were they to predict what we are going to be.

Red was the clock that told me you were slowly fading. What once was vivid crimson became dull. You were clearly tired of us yet you were somehow reluctant to say anything about it so I didn’t too.
Red was the attention I wanted you to give me. The attention you deprived me of which caused me to become someone I didn’t want to be. Someone who demanded so much of you.

Red was the color of our late night arguments. We argued because of petty reasons but they were enough for you to lash out at me. Your voice was eight times more deafening than what was possible and I absorbed every insult without complaint for I still wanted to hold on.

For you were still a masterpiece to me.

But as time passed, you were slowly stripped away of the kind of passion I originally saw in you. You became monochrome. And simply, you lacked—

Red was the color of the plate you threw my way. And the cracking of the glass woke me up.
I knew what to do. I became determined to bring you back to what you once were. To the man I fell in love with.

Red was the color I decided to decorate you with. I thought, maybe, that’d make all the fighting go away. Maybe, that would bring you back to me.

And after another round of yelling, red was the color on my hands.

I was glad, for I could hold you now in my arms without triggering conflict. I could stare at you without being shouted at. For you were just silent, serene, after I decided to paint you—


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