the nature of red

I said red and he said red. But he meant red like the lightness of poppies or a misty stripe of rainbow evanescence. And I meant red like the blood of sunsets or the thick of good wine.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I wanted to tell him all, reveal nothing. I am more than the mysterious girl who you believe has seen the world and laughed. I am more than a girl of passion and rage; I am a forever ghost, a book with no last page. But we halt more than speak, and I am drowning in this place without water.
When I left, he turned around and I saw the words left unspoken drift from his parted mouth. They hovered happily in the sun, and it was beautiful. But picture dust specks floating in the light; once you close your hand around them, they cannot be seen.
So he said red, and I said red.

~circa 2004, timeless applicability