I’m seeing red.
No.
Fire.
That’s it. Fire like the the flames of how infuriated I am; I see my heart resounding through my body like a percussion instrument; I see the rose you gave me last night fall off the wood as you hit the table; I see my lips in the mirror as a tear rolls down it; I see your face across the table, as it boils up with rage; I see my heels that I storm out of your house in; I see your hand, bright from hitting the table, grab mine as I try to walk out the door; I see my nails as you hold my hand a bit too tightly. You pull me close and bring me into a kiss but this time… this time I pull away and from now on, I won’t be seeing you.