i. little
blue is the color of loneliness
the color of finding refuge in solemn
the color of running into brick walls to disappear
for just long enough to hear the sound of your pulse slowing down
before finding eyes that look like yours but only from far away
chase the comfort of silence, silence that holds your voice hostage until someone disarms it
and then the hands around your neck loosen but only for a second so you can hold your breath under water
born again into the same skin you’ve always known only it looks like it’s supposed to
and the scars are pictures of things you don’t remember feeling
blue is the color of cold air sneaking into the bathroom in between the cracks under the window
to set on your bare body and make your heart shiver
blue is the color of the first time he spoke to you, and you weren’t even sure why yet, but it mattered
ii. chiron
blue is the color despair
blue is the color of losing everything before you knew it was everything
blue is the color of growth
growth that leaves you scarred and bruised and covered in someone else’s blood
and it stains your skin forever like a tattoo of your trauma
it stretches as you get older but never so much that it fades
being clean means shedding your skin but you’ve never sat still long enough to become that version of you
the version with unclenched fists in the sand
that listens to the world moving in its quiet madness without so much as touching you
blue is the color of a single moment of sanctity that lasts forever in second
but it’s still long enough to trick you into smiling a smile that’s been hiding between your teeth for your entire life
blue is the color of turning into your own reflection and realizing the cold you feel inside is never going away
iii. black
blue is the color becoming
blue is the color of the mask
blue is the color of acceptance when you’re defeated by your own resilience
when your body becomes the shape of your fears and it’s impossible to remold
the size of your chest is big enough to make a prisoner of your own tenderness
but sometimes enough air sneaks through
like it used to in your bathroom through the cracks under the window
and you remember that water was always home
water was always freedom
so you let yourself cry all the water you need
so you can get the courage to travel back in time to the version of you that you once became, ever so briefly
with unclenched fists in the sand
the breeze never asks you to explain yourself
because you look so familiar, behind the layers and layers of layers
blue is the color of holding your breath to stay alive
blue is little is chiron is black
blue is the color of your skin in the moonlight
About the Creator
Andie Ngeleka
Andie Ngeleka is lesbian writer, comedian and filmmaker based in Los Angeles. Her writing has appeared in Gay Magazine, Into More, and HopeIRL. She studied Cinema and Media Studies at USC School of Cinematic Arts.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.