You used me, and I don't think I'll ever understand why.
I can remember so clearly, how strongly you wished to go the opposite direction from me. You wanted west, I wanted east. A compromise would never be plausible, your mind was unnegotiable. In some way, I had hoped that would not be the case.
In that instance, I was ciego.
I covered our pictures with the blue paint that dripped from my thick paintbrush, leaving dots on the hardwood floor. I hadn't covered it, why bother when I can't see anything except what I never wanted to?
"Do you know what's perfect?"
"What?"
"Nothing."
Maybe nothing is beautiful in its own way, regardless of the persistence you displayed when I challenged you. Without nothing, everything would be an over-glorified version, paralyzing the stereotype you seemingly invented. But, I am not anything you seem to indicate.
That idea aggravates me now. It wounded me initially.
Why wouldn't it? The invalidity was burning, the fire set the moment the lighter left your lips. I suppose I never fueled the fire, but perhaps I did internally. At that moment, my fight had been worn thin, my drive was nonexistent, just as your perfection had been. Horrifying, the noticeability of it.
NONEXISTENT: adjective, not existing or not real or present
Consequently, I never existed to you, not afterward. My memory was imaginative to you, just as I became. In that description, that would make you my creator, but how can you create and destroy the same item of possession?
That's when my roots began to crumble.
YOU ARE READING
Colors Behind the Glass ✓
Poesia[COMPLETED] Lonnie has been through several life-changing events. The most impactful is the death of their abuelita and the loss of someone close to them as they came out as non-binary. They have struggled with coming to terms with these two facts...
