Red hair and red lips, the color I loathed.

She was painted in red. Her hair, her lips and everything she wore is red.

The red color you adore.

I knew. Just by the look on your face, I knew that you held deep sentiment towards her. I knew how you yearned for her.

The longing,
the desperation you felt,
I could see them in your eyes.

The way you stared at her, the way your eyes lit at the mention of her name, the way your expression changed at the slightest thought of her. It was all too obvious.

You never loved me.



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