red.
It was fast, everything about him passed by so quickly that I never caught my breath. Every smile, every word, every whiff of his perfume; I never fully held him but somehow I never fully let go either.
All the same I wish that I never learned what his hugs felt like — now that I can never hold him the same way, it kills me inside far worse than I thought it would.
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I know how soft his voice is whenever I lay my head on his shoulder, and I have to pretend my eyes don’t search for him whenever I enter a room.
I remember how gentle his hugs were, wrapping me up tenderly in ways I never knew I could be held; all for me to politely smile whenever I pass by him with my friends.
I have to act like I don’t yearn for him in ways I didn’t know were possible, to have memories of his smile and laugh flash through my head at any given moment all the while having to pretend that I’m merely acquainted with him.
Letting go was blue, and trying to forget him is the darkest grey I’ve ever known.
