If I place you on a pedestal, you disappoint me. You break down every fragment of wood I place under you and light it on fire. Your incineration is pleasing… but only to you. So I hastily breathe the flames of your remnants in hopes to catch you into my lungs and into my blood stream. I inhale deeply to the point of asphyxiation.
Where you went inside my body I never get to know. But you, with your mayhem, know just how to poison me. You are toxic, turning me black with death, purple with strangulation. Once on the pedestal my breath you would take away sweetly… knowingly. Now inside me you turn against me detrimentally.
Who knows who you are anymore, or if you are more than just red? Red anger; red flames embody your very essence. And fire consumes all in its path, until there is nothing left– there will not be anything left but you. But love, the world gets boring in one color, one temperature, one soul.