Portrait

I thought I remembered the gray of her eyes

I remember comparing it to clouds and storms

I saw lightning and rain, fury and thunder.

I remember.

But her eyes were never grey, were they?

They were the colour of an ocean floor, covered algae.

They were waves of lives and mystery dipped in salt

I thought.

It’s like the sound of her voice.

I thought I heard honey and bees.

I remember hanging on to her every word

And I remember they tasted sweet.

Each letter carefully crafted and painted into my mind

Her words the colour of pollen.

But come to think of it, I think they were wiser

They were more like light feathers falling gently

They were snowflake or powdered sugar.

Now I think I thought I remembered her burgundy smile

And her red wine ambitions.

I think I can recall how her skin was like a sandy beach,

With darker specks of sand colouring her otherwise pale complexion.

The palette slipped from my fingers,

The paint spilled on the canvas.

They mashed together into a black hole.

That was her;

She was all the colours mixed together.