I slid my hand across the icy, cold grass, reaching for his. I smiled as our fingers intertwined, my eyes closing.

This was the feeling I had craved, being alone with him. The silence, no talking, only the sound of whistling wind disturbing us. My God, was it beautiful.

But of course, everything beautiful comes to an end. Especially when you had my boyfriend, who in fact hated the silence. A****le.

"What's your favorite color?" He asked.

"Really? You interrupt my silence for this?" I asked not bothering to open my eyes.

"Yeah, you should be used to it. I say what's on my mind... So what is it?"

"I don't have a favorite color." I shrugged.

"Everyone has a favorite color, tell me."

I thought about it. What was my favorite color?
There were so many out there to choose from. How could I just pick one? But if I had to pick one, what would it be?
Would it be black? The color of his soft hair, the color his eyes turned with lust.
What about blue? The feeling I had when we were separated, the color of his piece of sh** truck.
Pink? The color of his soft lips, the color of his cheeks on cold winter days like today.
Maybe it was red. A burning red like our love.
Or grey. The color of his hoodie that clung to my body, the color of the sky on this beautiful winter day.
What about green? The color of the shirt I was wearing the first time his lips touched mine, the green grass laying beneath us.
Or is it purple? The color of the marks he would leave along my neck during our sweet alone time.

To be honest, I didn't know what my favorite color was. There were too many colors that meant so much to me because of him.

I turned to him, his eyes on me, waiting for my answer. That's when I knew it. My favorite color.

"Your eyes." I smiled softly, my breath coming out like smoke.

"My eyes?" He laughed, his dimples showing.

"Yeah your eyes..." I whispered.

"I don't think the color of my eyes are different from any other color, love." He laughs sitting up a bit, looking down at me.

"They are though... That's what you don't realize..." I say sitting up with him, my legs going across his lap so I was straddling him. I pressed my forehead to his, looking into his eyes, my favorite color.

"Why are they your favorite color?" He asked, resting his hands on my sides, his breath hitting my face.

"Your eyes are my favorite color because when I look at them I feel every emotion..." I whispered, closing my eyes. "I feel love, hate, passion, lust, happiness, sadness." I whispered my breathing getting shallow as I felt his hands sliding up and down my sides, warming my body up.

"What else do you feel?" He whispered, his words soft, barely audible.

"I feel at home..."