The Color Red

The ignorance and loss of bliss.

Red never was your color.

You always preferred the darker shades of incognito, hidden underneath autumn leaves.

You were a grand facade: the joker card, donning princely imagery. I swam in lilacs, too transfixed to notice the flags shaking.

They (who's they?) say there is a first time for everything. I remember when your picture invaded my memory:

I was a skeptic, at best. But when your eyes caught mine, my blood warmed with lust. My mind ricocheted. I thought I was drunk, because my lungs swarmed with thirst.  I slid my eyes to the ground, not worthy, they said--your chimera was by far the loveliest I've ever seen.

I don't want to set the world on fire...

So I trenched ankle-deep in permafrost.

"This kind of certainty scares me," I said. You chose not to hear me; instead, you listened to morning dew build on the branches. One day they will break, I thought, and then who's going to save you?

There are few moments in life where a faint daydream turns into tangible actuality. For me, it started with a kiss. I fell into the disarray of bliss, not knowing exactly how to react. You can plan a situation in your mind over and over again, but when the time comes for it to happen, you black out.

They never tell you there is a fear of happiness.

The sky grew dimmer as the moon waned listlessly into a dark chasm. I glanced at your statuesque expression; the glow of youth emitted brightly from your dark eyes and Apollonian features. But where was your heart? Planted in a house of cards?

The tree branches snapped defiantly. I flinched instinctively, yet you didn't even budge. I had to seek shelter elsewhere.

The lilacs wilted in my arms when I left you there.