wordswallowed

9

(a/n : this piece is inspired by the infamous tumblr post about yellow and love)

God I hate spring.

Everything living was, obviously, full of life, full of colour, except for me - not this time at least.
I can't help but think of her. Its that thing that our brains like to do - we like to torture ourselves by associating things with other things. Like how I associated the colour yellow with our entire relationship.

"Yellow!"

I can still hear her voice. That voice - how proud she sounded; how sure she sounded. Just from the way she spoke, you could hear her huge smile, the warmth it radiated...just like the colour yellow. And when I told her that she was right, her smile was 10x wider - she became the "yellow" sun that I begin to orbit around.

Yellow.
At this very moment - I never loathed such a colour. And she left me just in time for spring - where splashes of yellow were practically everywhere. Whether it's in sunsets, in daylight, on rainy days (with the yellow wellington boots), yellow sun dresses... I saw her everywhere. And it's ridiculous, how a memory, about a colour, a stupid colour, could've affected me like this.

When she left along with the winter snow, somehow, she didn't bring the coldness with her. Because she, she was the sun that I orbited around. Yet now, I feel like I'm experiencing an eternal polar night; only having the brightest of the colours highlighted, emphasised. As if it was reminding me that something is missing in my life. She was all the colours, at full brightness at once - she filled in all the colour that needed to be there, and with her - everything seemed right.

"Yellow!" A familiar voice would say, greeting me.
I chuckle to myself, "yellow - did you know that's what she thought my favourite colour was?"

I didn't need anyone's pity - but some people would go through the extent of colouring the bright stain with other colours, but it didn't work. Orange...brown...all these ridiculous colours - I still saw hues of yellow in them. And I can't help but see her in them. She's everywhere. She was a calm storm that drizzled into my life, but our relationship later turned into a nightmare of a hurricane. And she left me with all the mess.

Sometimes I wonder, if she'd ever come back; if she was ever affected by it as I was.
But I guess she didn't, because I never heard of her again.

"Not even a single," I chuckled again to myself,

"yellow."