He is black agony. You are red suffering. You share burgundy overflows and grey blades.

He is all deflection. You are all feeling.

You catch onto his impenetrable stare, and feel your own resolve flicker like candlelight.

He is as strong as a marble pillar but not yours to lean against.

A symbol of a tangible desolation you could never hope to delve into the depths of, a figure of despondency so red raw you will never comprehend how he wakes up every morning without tearing himself to shreds.

He is all grey ambition. You are all burgundy aspiration. He sees through your red cellophane and witnesses an innate darkness so black he turns away in sorrow. He will never fathom how you wake up everyday and bring yourself to smile at all.

He has not forgotten face-splitting smiles; you remember too well heart wrenching grief. In white recognition you exchange burgundy overflows and grey blades.