|dented beyond repair|
Maybe it was the redness in you, brought the devil out in me.
You never really stood a chance. On the first day of our relationship, we went out for a couple of drinks and I let a little Irish guy wear you to dance in a karaoke bar. This crime was only remembered a week later . . . damn those sambuca shots.
You've always been the perfect partner-in-crime and I had so much fun wearing you, parting is such sweet sorrow.
Alas, it was a Deacon Blue concert, red wine and too much fun that brought about your downfall. Dancing away to their greatest hits, I caught my heel and fell, bringing catastrophic injuries to your shoe loveliness. With your loss, the scars (as well as my bruises) run deep.
But as I say goodbye to you, I'll always remember the good times.
Goodbye my red friends