Blue hearts, they are unique, are they not; because hearts are supposed to be red, crimson because of the sanguine that gushes inside the walls of the fist sized atrium. But the blue ones do exist, cerulean, vibrant, are they not wonderful? The colour of the ocean, and of the sky, the blue hearts too, they hold entire worlds inside them, so different they are from the red ones, yet they beckon them, for they change the crimson into cerulean, yes, that is what the blue hearts do, they fall in love with the red ones and turn them into the warmest colour.When you find the heart that is blue, you won’t be looking for it; you’d stumble upon it, coincidences happen, do they? Maybe these hearts speak in a language of their own, the blues call out to the reds, in a song of the heartstrings unheard to our ears, they call out to each other; maybe every red has its own blue, and all it ever wants is to find the one, and when it does, blue is indeed the warmest colour, and words seem like poetry, and the colours all too vibrant, the black and white seems to be the rainbow now, and raindrops feel like the drops of ether.
Maybe that is what blue hearts are for, changing the red ones, for they sometimes fall in love with you when you’d never dream of it; like when you find someone you’ve never known before, and they fall in love with your messy hair, maybe that isn’t a coincidence, maybe it’s the heartstrings at work, maybe that is what a blue heart does, it falls in love with a red one, falls in love with the littlest things in its being, like the ruffled hair it has, or the colour of its eyes, maybe that is what a blue heart is for, to look for its red one, and fall for it, and change the crimson into its own; stumbling onto someone and eventually realizing what would I have done if I hadn’t run into you? And how lavishly you thank yourself for that coincidence, wonderful is it not, the way hearts work, isn’t blue the most beautiful colour in the world?