I don't believe in having a singular favorite color.
I think that there are too many beautiful colors in this world to pick one, and that different colors look more beautiful at certain moments. Like, if I say green is my favorite color, then it totally excludes how much I love the color the sky is right now.
Or the blue/grey of the ocean the first time I saw it, or the yellow the sunflowers outside my grandma's house on the day she died. Or the beautiful deep brown of your eyes in the sunshine the day you told me you love me.
Or the encompassing black the night was when I finally left you.
To pick my favorite color I'd also have to pick my favorite moment. And every wonderful and painful and beautiful moment has a color, and I cherish every single of one them for some.
So no, I can't tell you my favorite color.
YOU ARE READING
Lungs and Coffee Cups
Poetry"I believe we hold our feelings in our lungs, and at the bottom of empty coffee cups" The life and writings of j.l., a book of poetry containing absolute devastation and pure joy.