Colours

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Scarlet

Scarlet was pure passion.

He was more deadly than a fire, and he burnt with a heat like that of a star. He was raw and unfiltered, a being with such a heightened sense of emotion that everything to him felt more real. Always fighting to gain control of his surroundings - he was undeniably afraid to be the subject of another’s power. Power, passion and strength ran through his veins. In place of blood - he had gasoline.

To love him was chaotic and exhilarating all in a single moment - he had the rare ability to tap into my adrenaline and manipulate my feelings to match his moods. He was more than a tempest, more unpredictable than the ocean - he was hell in a human, with an aura of heaven surrounding him.

And God did I love him.

I gladly set my soul ablaze for him. His heat burned me, and his passion scarred me and yet never did I contemplate turning away - he was the very thing that pushed me to the brink of insanity and yet in him I found the form of a best friend.

Scarlet was complicated, arduous, perplexing and intricate - shadowed by an inbred black border he could never seem to fall in line with.

He was easily angered, heavily stubborn - he was the elements brought to life. Looking back I see how he ruined me - and yet, in his various reds I found meaning in my life.

Made of vermillion, and maroon, with a touch of charcoal and crimson, he was a network of processes that confused most beings on earth. The light in him was different to that in others - rather, his was structured and strategic, built to enhance the false warmth he portrayed.

His crimson was most prominent, in the authoritative way he wielded words. Possessing standards so high, that the price was paid with the liquid running in my veins. Crimson for his carnality, the inhuman determination that was his chosen weapon. To Scarlet, every person was an enemy, and each day was the dawn of a new war.

Despite his misgivings, I found his darkness alluring, I tried to temper him, calm him, quench his flames with my own sense of humility. And to an extent I was successful, I was able to dull the gleam of his crimson light; not knowing that the smoke that followed would be charcoal.

With every step I took forward, I was beaten back down, silenced through the smog that would fill my lungs. Charcoal was pungent, and thick in its tone - it was in his charcoal I became unrecognisable.

The longer I watched him, the more blinded I was to his flaws, the more willing I was to overlook all of his wrongs.

And he took advantage, sculpting me through the bright vermillion that started to corrode and waste away. My endless devotion, left him feeling supreme, and thus I am in part to blame for his downfall. Vermillion was the colour that drew me in, it was his vermillion to whom I confessed my love. But all colours fade, all pigments dull and vermillion gave way to maroon.

Scarlet was once my everything, my moon and my sun. He was the dawn of new beginnings, and the light I looked to for strength and courage.

Scarlet was my world, and I loved him with an honesty so deep and pure - and so, I let Scarlet dull the innate light within me.

Now my love has turned to self disappointment, when I question how I let myself fall so far. I gave my soul to a demon, sacrificed my being - all for a fraction of the love I deserve to feel. In the end Scarlet was a blessing, regardless of the destruction he wrought, for he taught me that true love does not force you to change who you are. I loved Scarlet, and accepted him as he was, and yet now I know that to Scarlet I was not, and never would be, enough.

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