Red, like her hair.
Not a natural red,
but it suited her better
than blonde ever did.
She caught me at a bad time
with those red lips of hers.
I wasn’t in love with her.
I was in love with her.
I don’t know if I’m in love right now;
I don’t know if I’m in love with her still.
Those red freckles.
That faux punk look.
You loved me.
I didn’t say it back.
I should’ve.
But I couldn’t.
You were my best friend.
I wish we were more then…and now.
I ****** up, Red.
I ****** up.
That’s what red means to me:
I ****** up.