"Our favourite colour was Red."
were the lights they put up in their room,
and the carnations they had just bloomed,
while I cried myself to sleep on my bed.
was the spilled glass of wine on my dress,
as I stared in amazement and somewhat in distress,
how pretty it looked against my scars that slowly bled.
was all I could see as anger in me grew,
for the future with him I once drew,
had burned down before me as I watched my cupid lie dead.