The steam of blood is in the air. Evaporated blood, the perfect dye.
"Indeed, it's been that way for a while.
Yet, the paint is always the same.
"Yeah, and so are the painters."
Painting the scarlet moon against the sunset.  The way her lips were at the moment of kiss. bloody red.
"For the right event."
Her gray stare showed me the hell that blinded her.
"It wasn't real, just fake.  No passion or emotion behind her bloody kiss."
Her hands pressed against my cheeks to show me that it was all for nothing, just an empty feeling with empty actions.
She ran her soft fragile hands through my hair, that witch.
Then I backed away, she was trash* to me and in return I was nothing to her.
That was that, the end.