Of Red and Blue.

One day there is a guy who loves the color red, with blue arms and even bluer heart. His eyes are burning with passion even though the light in his heart had died, and he's trying so hard to light it back even though its now nothing but ashes.

The girl ran to nicotine for solace,

The guy to alcohol, and drugs.

The girl fell for the guy's blue, so she tried to help him light out the ashes by giving him her red, gleaming and alive heart. He doesn't know how to handle hearts properly so he shattered it, probably unconsciously, but that's okay, the girl gathered the pieces and she gave it to the guy once more. Once more. Again. Just once more.

Over and over again. Like a vicious, self destructing cycle.

She then began running the same way he does, looking for solace together with him. To ethanol and divinorum, they both fly high to escape their bitter realities.

The guy enjoyed her sweet, strawberry scented red hair and the girl enjoyed his bitter, tobacco and cologne whiff of air he always carry.

They feed on each other's hunger,

Yet both are still hungry for more.

The girl is still pained,

The guy still don't know how to handle fragile hearts,

But if a stone love the beating, painful flame that forms it, can anyone still call it pain?

Can anyone still call it destructive if that what sculpts her smiles?

Perhaps...

In another world and another reality..

They'd burn together, like fire and gasoline,

Instead of fire dwindling the last bits of dried ice to haze.