My second grade teacher liked to ask us, "How do you feel today, on a scale of one to ten?" Ten always meant I'm super, thank you and one was always not today, Mrs. MacAuley, not today. But I never liked numbers, they would always twist the rebel against my mind so I chose to speak in colors instead.
January third- I am the color of mint chocolate chip ice cream but I've eaten all the chocolate chips. I am calm.
February seventh- I am a bruise of blues and violets today. I think it would be best if I say by the window. These are unhappy colors.
April eleventh- I am turquoise, I am magenta, I am every color in the rainbow.
April thirtieth- I am gray, I am silent.
May first- I am orange, the color of melting creamsicles on a beach in July.
June twelfth- I am as yellow as the school bus that will bring me home to summer. I am free.
Twelve years later, I still use colors. The winter makes me feel cobalt blue, the ocean turns me a seafoam green. Violets and purples leave me uneasy and scarlet is a fever of fury. Some nights I drown in shades of navy, denim, and cornflower but other nights I meditate in forests of harlequin and shamrock. But you, you leave me a blinding white followed by a soft yellow: the color of sunlight after a period of darkness.
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Recovery
PoetryWritings that helped me recover and will hopefully help you. Some might be mine.
