Winter

Once his world had been painted in pale rose and brilliant yellows; but yellow shifted over the years, still brilliant yet different, no longer bright enough to cover the grays seeping into his world. So he turned to red, thick as blood, bathing his fists in it hoping to wash the grays away. But gray remained, growing heavier with each breath until he thought his chest would burst.

Time passed, pale rose moved away, brilliant yellow dulled and gray won. Even the thick feel of red running over his skin wasn't enough to kill the gray, though it never stopped him from trying, hoping, that the next blow would relieve the pain pressing against his heart.

Cold blue set in masking him with its air of indifference. He found it mixed well and wore it daily, fading willingly into the grays of his life, painting it occasionally with the bright reds he missed – just for fun. His world became pale hues of gray, blue, red and his chest grew still until even the dulled yellows could no longer touch him.

Then, without him noticing, a single shade of red changed, blossomed into the familiar rose he remembered. Tinged with yellow it chased away the grays, lighting the darkest corners of his heart, filling his world with a passionate shade of red he wanted to loose himself in… if only she would look his way.