Colours

It used to be red. Ruby red like the jewel and more. Its temperature warming her inside, blasting heat from the uncontrollable energy it conveyed underneath the thin, scribbled layer of love it was wrapped in. Unbelievably stunning, old fashioned writings so neat, as if measured, calculated, carefully drawn majestically on her love holder won war over the unarranged, painful scribblings that although less relevant stood out like thin metal needles dipped in cyanide, ready to defend against yet another intruder.

It is now black. Black with anger, black like death, so black that it stole her breath. It is now a cold, colourless, perpetually rainy place where the radiant, passionate feelings judge used to be.
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First comments:
Ruru: Is it descriptive enough?
Cliff: It's sickly descriptive.
Ruru: Good good.
Cliff: What's a love holder and a feelings judge?
Ruru: Her heart.
Cliff: Oh... you completely lost me there.

Cliff's a completely factual person that does not get literature and Mr. Copson's "doings" at all whatsoever. I love that about him. I show him every single one of my writings because his comments are golden. =) Cliff's ze awesomeness.