On - A Sanders Sides Story

Then

Virgil knew what it was like to love.

Love was pure passion.
Love was fear turned to exhilaration.
Love was what Roman felt when he got onstage.
Love was what Virgil felt watching him.
Love was what grew in his heart over the years that they spent together.
Love was a secret worth sharing.
Love was putting your heart out on a silver platter.
Love was kisses exchanged on Roman's bedroom floor.
Love was the colour of his shirt the very first day that they met.
Love was a shade of red.

Virgil knew what it was like to hurt.

Hurt was anger and betrayal.
Hurt was loneliness on Christmas.
Hurt was darkness in the soul.
Hurt was being left behind.
Hurt was a cage that could not be escaped.
Hurt was what drove Roman away.
Hurt was what crept under his door that night.
Hurt was what Roman felt when he took metal to his wrists.
Hurt was blood on the bathroom floor.
Hurt was a shade of red.

Virgil knew what it was like to hate.

Hate was blind.
Hate was all encompassing.
Hate was a tantrum, loud and angry.
Hate was a thrashing force that was dying to escape.
Hate was the resentment of death.
Hate was the resentment of self.
Hate was what Virgil wished he felt for Janus.
Hate was easier.
Hate was a wall around his bleeding heart.
Hate was a shade of red.

Virgil knew what it was like to regret.

Regret was a shadow.
Regret was something that didn't go away.
Regret was what followed you around.
Regret was powerful.
Regret was what Virgil felt after Roman's funeral.
Regret was all of the things he never said.
Regret was not reminding Roman how much he loved him.
Regret was not knowing if it would have made a difference.
Regret was a rose on a grave.
Regret was a shade of red.

Virgil knew what it was like to be lost.

Lost was not knowing where to go.
Lost was being without a home.
Lost was forgetting who you are.
Lost was what Virgil felt after he ran away.
Lost was confusion and discoordination.
Lost was feeling completely alone.
Lost was being without his fathers.
Lost was when Virgil was feeling too much.
Lost was when those feelings bled into each other.
Lost was many shades of red, and not knowing which was which.