Red, the color of heart-shaped cardboard
boxes filled with chocolates, like the one I
bought for you on Valentine’s Day eleven
years ago, the day when I told you for the
very first time that I loved you more than
anything in the world, when I asked you to
be my girlfriend, and without a moment’s
hesitation, you smiled at me and said “yes.”

Red, the color of the roses in the bouquet
you threw backward behind your head on
our wedding day eleven months ago, when
you and I agreed to spend the rest of our
lives happily together forever, when both
of us said our vows and the words “I do,”
when we celebrated with dancing and glass
after glass of champagne with our loved ones.

Red, the color of the anger and hatred I saw
in your eyes that night when we got into a
fight eleven days ago and you yelled at me
and I yelled at you and we didn’t talk again.
Red, the color of the liquid leaving your
body as you lay here on the sidewalk after
the car crash eleven minutes ago, and I sit
by your side during your final moments alive

and with your last breath, you say to me “I’m sorry.”


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