Red but Black

Our love was red.

Our love was red when I first laid eyes on you; as our eyes locked for the first time. Your dark brown eyes which contained a shining energy within them. I felt an instant connection and felt your gaze captivate me. Your hair was still black, untouched by any hair-dye and your skin, still clear.

Our love was red when you pressed your lips against mine for the first time. To my surprise, the squeamish feelings I thought I’d have inside – I didn’t. Instead my mind was infatuated by the texture of your lips, and how they calmed my racing heart. How you stole my first kiss and I didn’t mind. How I wouldn’t have wanted anyone other to have done so.

Our love was red when I first heard you voice ‘I love you’ followed by a sheepish smile and a giggle, when we were sitting, alone, on the carpet floor of your living room, feeling as if the world was on a temporary pause, and that we were the only two alive.

Our love was red. It was. But it changed.

Our love is black.

Our love is black when I lay my eyes on you and our gazes lock. Your beautiful eyes now stained like ash as a result of your daily-applied eyeliner becoming smudged after crying. Your anxious nature projected through the emotions noticed in your eyes and how you can’t look at me for longer than a moment before turning your back.

Our love is black when your plant your lips against mine for the last time before resting your forehead on my shoulder afterwards. My heart races so fast to the point where I wouldn’t be surprised if you overheard, but, it only reminds me of the times where our heartbeats were the only things projected on a silent night.

Our love is black when I hear your voice for the last time, it’s just a simple bye as you hold your bags, but my heart still sinks to my feet. I try to speak but nothing can be expressed as all is heard is silence, the cat got my tongue to the extreme.

Our love is black as I watch you walk further and further away, into the darkness of the crisp cold night, and I wonder if you’ll meet that person who makes you feel red again.

Our love is black. It is. And it hasn’t changed.