the rainbow

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A group of friends

gushes to each other 

about what their perfect,

dream-boat,

fairy-tale,

one true love looks like...

and I wonder

how they already know

both the hue and tint 

of their lover's skin

how they have already seen 

the shade of their pupils 

or pigment of their lips.

How do they know

all of this

about their lovers,

when they've never even witnessed 

the rusty laughs

or blushing cheeks 

that compliment galaxies of freckles?

How dare you

skim your judging eyes 

over the color of skin 

and say I love you?

How dare you

talk about a type of person 

as if they are a type of love?

As if they could have chosen their attributes,

like you pick 

and choose 

and change

the bread of your Subway sandwich.

How dare you

belittle someone 

by sexualizing their colors

scowling at their colors

glamorizing their colors?

How dare you

call a potential lover,

"boring"

merely because you are 

"tired of seeing their people" ?

Yet I don't suppose

you stop loving

to gaze 

at the white light of your screen

against the purple night sky 

just because you see it every day and

everywhere.

But if you only knew 

one color

for your entire life

and I showed you the rainbow,

you would fall in love

with all the other colors too.

Yes,

all of the limitless,

endless combinations

and you would not 

get tired of

diversity.

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