My dreams were always in black and white; once in a while, I'd be gifted something gray.

Until her.

Then, I broke her. I tore her up. I shattered her. But she was breathing, living, and I knew damn well, she was on the verge of loving, but it couldn't be me.

I turned from her for the red, white, and blue. Because war, destruction, hell, and even death were more welcome than the possibility of hurting her.

I didn't deserve her, and she sure as f*@^ didn't deserve me.