Pink lips, blue eyes, and yellow hair that once was brown
Sparkling raspberry cheeks and strokes of brilliant whites
framing two pools of ocean inviting you to drown
A fresh and minty exhale an icy breath invites
If People and places are an ensemble of colour, feeling and truth
Then i am a kaleidoscope, ever changing, never settled.
Look right and you will spot the bright yellow of my youth
But look left to grasp the charcoal yearning for emerald
I wake up like the sunrise, yellows and pinks arise
A hope for fulfilment and happy, blushing excitement
Cooled by expectations of a mind waiting for demise.
And there I sleep: in the indigo, tainted by rust, still defiant.
My past has seen the red fire of destructive love
All consuming, yearning for a passioned heat
Flickering, engulfing, breathing scarlet admissions of
A refusal to believe in the warmth only self-love can treat
What is colour but perception, and what is perception
But the power you choose to give it.
Do you choose your colour palette?
Or does your environment define the shades of your introspection
If it was you, what would you see, how would you paint
Your truth, internal, external; bright and unique.
If it was me, I would not stop
until the colours that make up my life, myself and my reality
Ran together - into a colour that words can only hope to interpret.
About the Creator
Emmy B
I write some of my truths, and use words to weave stories and ideas together. Writing is a passion and an outlet for me and I hope to inspire, challenge, or simply be a reflection of others's experiences - to make people feel seen!
Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis5 days ago in Humans
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.