The sun was completely gone, invisible to the eye from my own perception. The layers of purple remained in the night, lighting the sky with lilac coloration.
Maye stood at my side. "What's next?"
I rubbed my sore arms, contemplating what her question was implying. What would be next? There was no you, there was no her. All I was left with was my broken ego, my dying soul. I was left with my pain, and my regret, so strong it almost left me gasping for air. That air was so curious, constant, and comfortable. The only comfort that remained.
I turned around and looked at the formerly white house. Instead of consistency, I was greeted with a mess. The windows were shattered from the knives I had thrown in a haste the prior evening, glass crunching under my shoes. I had cleared out the paint cans, leaving the house a flashing color of everything. I knew it was everything, yet I could not witness this claim with my own eyes, only Maye's.
While I continued to bleed, the words continued to resurface.
At one point, I had wanted to forget.
In its place, I now wished to retain the memories.
Facing her, I wondered why she wished to know. What it could accomplish.
"I don't know," I responded, fidgeting with the red bracelet on my wrist. "But I'm going to find out."
YOU ARE READING
Colors Behind the Glass ✓
Poetry[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...
