Red was always your color. Red hair, red clothes, red car. It was your color and no one else’s. It defined you, inside and out. Red lips, red words, red shoes, red laughter.

Red hot warm skin, red hot warm laughter. It always was your color.

Nobody was as red as you and if you were red then I was blue.

Blue was always my color. Blue eyes, blue nails, blue heart. It was my color, no one else’s. It defined me, but I didn’t want it to. Ice cold blue, inside and out.

Blue and red. You and me. Primary, not complementary. We could only ever change each other, because when you add red and blue, you get purple.

Purple wasn’t your color.

It didn’t suit you. Purple words and purple laughter didn’t fit with your red hair and red smile. You looked out of place. A purple you meant for a world full of red. Outcast, misplaced, just a few pigments away from what you should be.

Purple wasn’t my color.

It changed me. Purple heart masking the truth, icy cold blue. I was out of place. Thrown into a world where I didn’t belong. Purple-blue in a world meant for red. Outcast, misplaced, and just a few too many shades away from what I should’ve been.

Purple-red and purple-blue. You and me, better alone than together. Blue and red.

And if we’re honest, blue wasn’t your color, and red wasn’t mine.