He is intense like the red of wine or the red of a beating heart.
Red is my favorite color.
He is my favorite color.
Yet I do not know him.
I wish I could put my ear to his chest and listen to his story.
I wish I could take a look into his mind and search for his secrets.
I wish I could hold his hand as we walk into the sunset.
I wish he could be mine.
I wish he could know.