Slightpoetry Stories

in which i vent on my sticky notes & paste them here.

In which Isa Virgil's husband is off in Afghanistan, and something tells her he isn't coming back. (Possible Triggers)

A girl is born on a canvas of white, everything she sees is in true and beautiful color. Out of the very few people she's seen they've all been a gorgeous bright or soft color, some blue, some yellow, some pink. The only problem , is that she is not beautiful, she is not true, not gorgeous. She is black, every inch. From her curly mid length hair to her fancy flats she is but a cruel mixture of grays and blacks. Forever cursed with this sickening display of her measly life. Until upon a colorful sky, in the afternoon a girl that she has never seen, a glorious princess of color in a rainbow of her own skin to her clothing, a dancing enchantress in the small sunlight. By far this is the most beautiful person to ever grace the eyes of any human. She is like a god among flurries of warm and cold tones, a mist of sinful perfection. In the end this encounter only making the young girl remind her self that she is nothing compared to the colored people. But maybe one day she can shine bright in her true colors, yet that is only a forgotten dream of her younger self. she lives on in the cruel yet amazing canvas of her world, alone in mind, and alone in life. But maybe one day she will learn, that black is the perfect color.

a feeling of happiness, satisfaction, well-being.

I don't know, but here this is. Feedback is welcomed and appreciated. Thank you. Not Edited, just writing it as I go.

A bunch of thought that will make my future self convulse in regret.