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Romance is not pink.
Romance is deep, deep red. Romance is silk, and velvet, and stormy nights, and raging fires underneath a blanket of stars.
Love is pink. Love is fluffy blankets on plush sofas, big enough for two. Love is a shining sun in a deep blue sky, with fluffy white clouds drifting lazily about. Love is a warm breeze rustling the grass, a picnic by a sparkling, clear lake.
Romance is not pink.