I met a boy with your name and for the first time in a long time, my heart didn't ache and my palms didn't sweat because it wasn't about you anymore. When he told me his favorite color was orange, I didn't think about how yours was just a band away from the spectrum. Instead I thought of the mixes of orange and yellow that formed the sunset and I imagined watching the night fall with him. I thought about strolling down the park during Autumn and about the pumpkin colored sweater I had seen the other day at the mall. I didn't think about how he liked orange but how you liked red. I thought about how fire was never red like we saw it, but a dark and deep orange. And maybe there was hope for me and maybe he was the person I've been waiting for. When he said he liked orange, I didn't think about you; I thought about how he wasn't like all the other people I'd spoken to before. When he laughed, I didn't think about how I missed your voice. Instead I thought to myself, 'I could listen to his voice and never get tired of it.' In our little moment, I didn't think about you, I thought about him. My mind never once wandered off to the past because I knew this was my present. It didn't hurt me when he asked me about you. I felt free in the sense that when your name touched my tongue, it was like writing a new chapter. You stopped being that heavy rock on my chest or the lump in my throat. When I said this boys name, I saw a blank page. And I know I'm finally moving on.
- Orange By Pauline M
(Edited)
