All the Colours of You

I sat and stared hopelessly at the canvas as the golden sun dripped over the horizon, my brows creased in frustration. All the colours were there. The icy blues and warm purples, the vivid greens and the perfect shade of peach that had been your favourite. It was all splashed on the blank square, but there was something missing. Instead of swirling together to form your name, it just muddied and pooled on my hands and feet, running over the newspaper, stretching out from where I sat like a mandala, crisscrossing lines entrapping me like you had so long ago.

Spelling out your name.