If Love Had a Color

Blue

Her fourth love was blue. Their love was the color of waves crashing into the sand, his lips crashing onto hers. It was the color of the breath that got caught in his throat when he saw her in that dress. It was the color of the lightning she could feel coursing through her body the first night they shared together. It was the color of their bodies tangled in each others arms with closed eyes, neither of them wanting to let go of the other even in sleep. When the two lovers were together, they were like the ocean. Deep, constant, and powerful beyond compare. They strengthened each other and leaned upon one another, but like the ocean, did not need anyone or anything to thrive. She liked to think that their love was like the dark night sky. Filled with stars and the moon and wishes and dreams. When she saw a shooting star, her wish to spend the rest of her life with him escaped her lips in a cloud of blue. This love, this final eternal blue love of hers, was as blue and sweet as berries, as blue and profound as the ocean, as blue and lovely as the sky, as blue and everlasting as the mountains. And when he knelt before her and asked her those four special words, she decided that if love had a color, it was blue.