I See You In Colors.
{Photo via unsplash.com}
Sometimes I think of you in colors.
I paint pictures in my mind as each stroke represents a memory. I never know what I am painting, since you only exist in the colors, now, but I let the blushes come. I let them touch my heart like canvas paper and cover the stains you already left.
Sometimes I think of you in colors. I use my fingers to paint and touch my soul and remember when we were red. Then it mixes with all the moments that transpired like tesseracts between blues and yellows.
Yet, every time I step back to look at the artwork, I feel my heart break again at the same time I try to rise.
It’s a masterpiece of dark mistakes shimmering of anger and light soliloquies from softly spoken words.
It’s a masterpiece that I call my greatest work of art, as well as my greatest failure. Still I paint you on my heart. Thinking that the paint will dry within the cracks and make something broken whole again.
Because I remember when we were yellow. I saw you from afar and it was like the sun was rising in my throat even in the dead of night. All I saw was brightness when you smiled. All I saw was shades of sunflower and lemon when I heard your name.
I felt the light shine in my eyes every time you called while adrift in viridity. I could taste the citrus-tainted lust when we spoke until 6 am for nights that lasted forever in a sunrise.
I remember when we were blue. When we would crash into each other like waves and fall in love between the ripping currents of passion. When we would coast on each other’s smile like a whispering lake. You could hear my whisper and I could hear yours.
It’s when your kiss tasted as sweet as blueberries freshly picked. It’s when we drowned of love as if we were standing in the pouring rain of our sentiments.
I remember when we were red. I would bleed your words because they cut so deeply, so sweetly from a red rose’s thorn. I was completely and utterly enamored while you were completely and solely adored. Nesting in the epic epitome of future’s desire and mutual obsession.
So in love that we burned like our hearts were igniting a fire. We melted into each other and could not imagine another world that did not pervade of our everlasting crimson.
I remember the passage from red to orange. When a shade slowly dissolved with our endearment, a flickering flame I would keep my hand over to keep it awake. We were deep like a sunset that sizzled of rage instead of joy.
We were freshly squeezed like oranges, but maybe it was too tight because as we faded from red to here, we lost some tints of infatuation and found discord. We had fallen and now we lay idly like October leaves slowly apathetic to the season of our hearts.
I remember when we were white. When we looked towards the clouds together and prayed for better days. When we wished on thousands of dandelions and watched the white ticks of hope float to the heavens. We squeezed so tightly our skin would turn pale.
You needed me and I needed you to need me, too. So I cloaked you in cotton with sweet things and devotion. I tried so earnestly to be the strength of the oyster that holds the pearl and the delicate care of freshly folded linen. Because fate took over, when we were colorless.
I remember when we were black. When every time our skin touched a piece of us would turn to ash. When sweet words had disappeared like our candle’s smoke. We lived in the night while always expecting the day. Looking at a sky that no longer had stars to wish upon.
Our hearts now dripped of oil because we’d soon need a repair. We were lost in a dark abyss. I was swimming to find you in midnight waters. You were swimming to find something else.
I remember when we rose fleetingly of purple. When the world seemed right again and your lips smelled of lavender and sounded of poetry. Your kisses made me drunk like a deep Cabernet and I fell into you again. I was happy in purple, as temporary as it seemed.
Counting my blessings like I counted lilacs in my dreams, because you finally felt real to me again.
And then all the colors, they erupted. They flooded foul mouths and bitter minds. All the colors they hazed our view and they mixed too much; we could not tell who we were. All the colors they tore us apart and we were lost in a piece of art that we called our torn hearts.
Bleeding of a dull mixture of past emotions we could no longer recognize.
Now I live in a grey. I think of you as smog that sometimes engulfs me and I cannot breathe anything but your memory. Our lives have left invisible stains across so many sidewalks. My mind walks down all the concrete marked with our steps trying to find a color to attach to.
But you’re cold like metal and it’s too icy to touch. You live like lead, stubborn in selfish desires as you build your empire. We are November’s cloudiest day.
Maybe one day you will get close enough to red to let it melt your lead. Maybe one day you’ll look towards the ocean and wish we were blue again. Maybe you see me in colors that don’t even exist on a spectrum. Then again, maybe you don’t see me at all because you’re still lost in colorlessness.
But I’ll continue to paint the colors of our history and the shades of my broken heart. One day I know I’ll find just the right tint and just the right tone to foster my magnum opus. Because a story lives on this dripping canvas. Because lyrics exist between hues.
Whether it’ll be our story, one I start on my own, or with someone new. For now I’m lost in the masterpiece of motley pigments as if I am painting blind.
Because sometimes I see you in colors… and it’s a beautiful mess to see.
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