Red.
The color that burned in your eyes.
Anger.
Negativity.
Fear.
But never love.
Red never symbolized hearts or romance.
Only fire.
Fire that burned blood,
which ran into piles of hurt and sadness.
Your temper was worse than anyone I know
Lashing out at points of sorrow or upset.
Taking out your troubles on those who cared for you.
Those who loved you.
And you thanked them,
with that color so deceiving.
That color taken to mean love.
I don't know why it took me so long to figure you out.
I didn't want to believe it.
I wanted to love you.
I wanted to grasp that red aura you carried around.
I wanted to be engulfed in your world.
But I was wrong.
Oh so wrong.
I was blinded by your ways.
Your inviting atmosphere was misleading.
You claim now I've broken your heart.
But how could I break something unworthy of love to begin with.
Broken from the start.
You claim that I've betrayed you.
But in reality, I'm the one who was mistreated.
Led on by false impulses.
You want to be friends,
But I want nothing to do with you.
I'm glad you're out of my life.
Take your red elsewhere
and see if someone else will accept
what little you have to give.