Blue,
As I take another hit of my third cigarette in a row, I notice my chipped blue nail polish. It is reminiscent of you. Your favourite colour was blue, your eyeshadow was blue, I left you blue.
I have spent well over an hour deciding how to begin this letter. I don't know that I should, really, as I'm sure my pathetic heart will be disgruntled for the rest of the night after writing out this letter. However, so much of it must be said.
The nights that followed our first meeting were long, and confusing. I was cold, bitter, and distant. I tried so very hard not to let you in. I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as we found your house, and as you wrapped your arms around him, a wave of nausea hit me like a train. The spite built up in my heart. When we got to the venue, relief replaced spite. I was one step closer to the night being over.
And then I took a good, long look at you.
I wanted to hate you. I really did. But your eyes were seafoam green and your hair flipped perfectly. My heart warmed... until he grabbed your hand. The spite rushed back. I ached with envy.
Hours later, and he still shook with nervousness when you touched him. He didn't want to leave you side. Eventually, though, he had to. As he went to the bathroom, you grabbed my hand. As you led me to the concession stand confusion turned into acceptance, my caution became comfort. I gripped your hand, telling myself you were just a warm spot in a cold place.
The rest of the night is blur, until the hotel room. Your whispers sent chills up my spine, your fingertips on my neck made my breathing heavy. At this point, you were no longer his. You were mine. I wanted you, I needed you. That's when the most exciting thing I had ever heard escaped your lips.
"Is it wrong that I like your personality a lot more than I like his?"
Not at all, Blue.
The following day, I kissed you. In front of a crowd, in front of him. I saw the rage in his eyes, and it was exhilarating. I won. You were to be mine, I knew the minute I felt those baby soft lips touch my own.
The car ride home, we both slept on his shoulders. I on his right, you on his left. You stayed at my house, and he was reluctant to leave. I wanted you to myself, though, I had to get you alone.
The next three days, you were mine. I kissed you far less than I should have, but I still remember your taste. I remember drinking too much and how I hated beer but somehow it tasted sweet on your lips. I defended you against him, and he hurt me but it was worth it. I held you until you fell asleep in my bed, and then I would pass out on the couch because I wanted to treat you like a proper lady.
If I would've known it would be the last time I touched you, I would have touched you more. If I would've known it would be the last time I kissed you, I would've kissed you harder.
He called me that night. I was tired, I was confused, I was sad. I just wanted to feel less alone.
I am marrying him next year, Blue. Yet still, I think of you. When we fight, I think of running off to see you once more. I find myself pondering the, 'what ifs' and even occasionally wishing I had chosen differently.
It's been a year since I last saw you... Nowadays, I find myself admiring all things blue... But I never liked the colour blue, you know.
Not until you.
