It was her gentle curve of a smile that I fell in love with. Those pink, desirable lips. Though perhaps it was also her tanned, freckle-stained nose. No. Without a doubt, it was the deep blue allure of her eyes that drew me in like the mysterious depths of the sea. And I sought after her like a fool searching for the golden treasure that was promised to him as a child, giving up everything. Everything mine was hers. Time passed and everything I saw grew more vivid with every step I took beside her. But I knew it meant nothing to her because she couldn't see the colors like I could. The reds when she kissed my cheek, the blues when she walked away, the melodious yellow sun gracing light upon her face… She couldn't see them because she didn't love me. I loved her.

I saw her last on an autumn's day, when the leaves were crisp on the ground and glowed more intense than thousands of wildfires, when the sky was brighter than her eyes, when I still loved her. I watched her as she looked over at him: her fated one. Those eyes that I fell in love repeatedly day after day, widened ever so slightly. Were her eyes less blue? I watched him (were the leaves less vibrant?), watched him stride gracefully towards her, enveloping her into his arms. And then I couldn't bare witness any longer and closed my eyes and shut my heart. Seconds turned into years, and after I waited and waited for them to separate, I opened my eyes. Where… where did all the color go?