it is the color of the solo cup you grasp in your hand, brimming with cheap booze. it is the color that blooms in your cheeks when your drink sloshes over the brim onto her shirt. it is the color of her fingernails as her hand waves your apologies off flippantly. it is the color of her lips curling upwards when you conjure some crumpled paper napkins out of your pocket. it is the color of the velvet that courses through her voice as she sits in your passenger seat. it is the color of the silk that skims across her skin as your hands glide down her waist. it is the color of the heat emanating from your intertwined bodies. it is the color of the rose you present to her with a flourish.
it is the color you see when you lose her. it is the color that drains from your face when you set down the telephone. it is the color of the vase you smash to pieces against the tile. it is the color that emerges from the creases between your knuckles as your hand pounds into the wall. it is the color of the veins that crown your sleepless irises. it is the color of the rose you set gently upon stone.
it is the color of love. it is the color of loss.
YOU ARE READING
embrace the tornado
PoetryThese are not happy stories, they are not sad stories. They are insignificant raindrops pattering against my brain that barely encapsulate the thunderstorm. I find my existence bathed in shades of gray that mirror the thunderheads in my eyes. I am a...
