If Love Had a Color

Red

Her second love was red. Before him, she had thought red was only a color. He made her realize she was so, so wrong. He was red. Red was no longer the romantic color of roses. It was the wicked color of the lipstick he had always made her wear. It was the color of his words as he said he couldn't live without her. It was the color of the treacherous secrets they kept from one another. It was the color of the passion and electricity between them that always drew them back. They were passionate and loved the other more than they loved themselves. But it was too much love. The love she poured out to him was as dark as blood and she gave too much. While she gave all of her heart and blood to him, his love oozed out in tendrils. His love was a long, red snake that wrapped around her and squeezed until she was gasping for breath. Until she was emptied of everything red and remained nothing more than a gray husk of what she had once been.