Technicolor

1.

I’m a pinboard of all the memories I no longer cherish. I spend my days weaving with the totems of long dead loves; a technicolor tailor for all the dreams that fell too far out of reach. No matter how hard I try, I can never make them fit comfortably.

2.

There’s a bell jar in the corner of my room. I cannot remember how long it has been there, or what it was for. It never seems to mind. It sits patiently, knowing someday it will be full once again. It stands sure of a purpose that is one day coming. I imagine it teeming with origami flowers; I see every fold bloom into life, delicate and refined. Transparent and fragile. It shelters beauty inside the best it can, holding onto hope that this is what it was destined for.

3.

I'm no good at origami. I am careless and imprecise, my paper creases and crumples like a car-wreck in slow motion. Flowers wilt and warp into puddles of colourful failure, and I know that this is not my calling. I save the scraps for coat linings, and count my blessings for the privilege.

4.

I’m a bell jar in the corner of my room. I cannot remember how long I have been here, or what I am for. I stand patiently, empty and transparent with none of the optimism. I imagine gardens growing in my pockets, and forget the memories I wear like a second skin. I wonder if I am destined to shatter into beautiful pieces; a jigsaw masterpiece to be reforged into something meaningful.

5.

I gift my coat to a stranger; a patchwork of dreams and memories that might fit them better. I see it keeps them warm, and that is enough. I spend the night weaving flowers from potential, and plant them beneath the morning light. A technicolor array growing from death and despair, teeming with delicate hope. I pin myself to this moment, cherishing the thought of being full once again.