It was a funny thing

This awkward red of ours

The shade was never quite right to the public eye

No matter how hard we tried

But to us

It was the shade we bled

And what artists we were

Creating this perfect shade of red

We bottled it up

Don’t you remember?

I put mine on the piano bench

You stored yours in the guitar case

We sealed it up tight

Opening it for every new memory

Mixing in the moonlight from midnights spent wishing

Stirring in the hues of different languages

We opened it every day apart

Painting even when the brushes frayed

The bristles falling out one by one

I could feel the handle cracking

Splitting down the middle from my tightening grip

You wasted your jar

Drank it down to warm you up

Only to spit it out when it wasn’t sweet enough

You flicked it at me

Watching as it ran down my face

You dumped it in my bed

Forcing me to sleep in it as it cooled

The red turning darker as it dried

You kept the jar

I watched as you mixed a new color

Filling it with the red you made for the girl who came after

Don’t you remember?

I still have my jar

But now it’s tucked away on the top shelf

Only brought down when I find the courage to pour it out