Color Of Love

The blood cascades down her face.

She is but a statue now with holes for eyes.

I can still hear her laughter. It is ringing in my perfect ears.

The blood still drips.

Her mouth is agape with horror.

I will never see her smile again, though her face is still warm.

The blood is pooling at my feet.

She is ugly this way. But I can only see her beauty.

Pale and red.

Are these the colors of love?

The blood has reached my ankles.

I think I will drown in it.