10/11/21

Colours

Red.

Seeing you gives me enough inspiration to write a whole book full of sappy letters, dear. I feel giddy and bubbly from head to toe just going back in time in my head and recalling our hidden smiles, our holding hands, our longing kisses. 

Just so you know, you do wonders to my life. You fill in an imaginary space i'm still not sure why it's empty. Just by noticing your kind, bright smile directed at my direction is enough for me to swoon for a whole year. 

Ah, how I wish for you to see yourself how my heart sees you, in every scheme of red: from the most fiery crimson when you're discussing an agitated topic, to the lightest of pinks when you shy yourself away from the big crowds, looking for me and my hugs. You told me you feel like you are not that grand of a colour, and that I am too biased when describing your best qualities, but no! You are an amazing, fantastic range of different passionate, inspirational, and ridiculousy stunning reds, and you should feel like them too. 

I'm not stopping my praising words till you finally accept the simple fact that you are fantastic, and not only for me, but for many others around you. But hey, i'm writting about my feelings specifically here so to make it more clear: you bright up my world with every side of you, from the best to the worst, and I appreciate having such honor. I couldn't be more happy. 

Sigh, I just needed to vent a little... Loving you can get so overwhelming at times.

-  

Orange.

The flowers in the gardens were dull, like they needed a bit of water. Careless owners they were, from that tiny coffee shop.

You clear your throat to get my attention. It seems to be drifting today, with my heart so heavy and my eyes so red from crying.

I spit it all out before the waiter comes qnd bring us our macchiatos.

-

Yellow.

I dreamt with you today. That you told me you were planning something over the phone, something important.

I texted you right away, always believing in my intuition, and you called me right away. It's like this with us. A custom.

So it was true then. You wanted me to actually make something special for you enough to be tat--

You sound so happy in the line. It feels like your heart is doing the talking, the beats of it jumping along with the pitch of your soft voice, trying but failing to not sound that excited. I get to spill a few words because I'm still struggling to talk after this reveal. This painfully sweet and nice and so lovable side of you.

"Of course I'll draw it."

Green.

Is spring the best season of all? With all of it's yearning and messy poetry hanging off the walls in the streets? With all of the flowers blooming out of nowhere with a radiance not everyone notices?

I catch a glimpse of that special look. A look that means so many things, always siding with a hint of sadness I still don't seem to get.

The yearning, the longing. The wistful sigh, the loving roll of your mouth just to whisper my name in between playful grins directed at myself.

I wish I could too.

-

Blue.

It's like i'm alone in an island, surrounded with venemonous water. I can't swim tru it, nor can try to build a boat to navigate to safer grounds. I'm trapped, and I've got nothing to hold onto but these words scribbled here, like a message to the outsiders who'll care enough to read it and get my feelings, but with nothing else worthy of doing. 

It's like admiring a soft crash of stars millions of years away from our reality. What else can be done, than see it and maybe write poetry about it? Feel a bit sad but keeping on with your life, it's not that big of a deal to you anyways.

It's such a hopeless feeling... The crashing, the writting about it, but with no one to help you contain your tears.

Violet.

You ironed it like your attire was something important today. I scoffed trying to get my dress to swirl properly. 

It was such an uneventful afternoon, I don't even feel the need to write about it.

It was messy, and your shirt was fucking ugly.

Pink.

Slow dances we not made for us.

We danced under the rainy skies, not caring about the weird looks we were getting from the guests around us. We felt free and at peace with the world; you put on a weird cologne that stained my shirt, and we laughed our asses off at the stupid music that blasted in the place. Cheesy, stupid, trendy music.

You wore a flannel that day. I swoon everytime I remember your boyish frame sporting it like it was an important piece of you; you looked like a painting in the back of a cheap motorcicle store, all rebel and comfy and superficial and fucking fictional- 

We were suddenly so so close, your hands holding my face softly, alcohol strong into your scent as well as in mine, and.

I couldn't get you to stop.

I still vibrate like that day, all pink and fluttery like a butterfly. My insides felt radiant, like the sun itself as been the one that kissed me in the little space between my cheek and my right ear. (Now I can't stop refering you as that, the fucking sun, because you and your laugh and your eyes are synonims of a blasting star to me)

I kissed your temple back. 

Everything felt so shy, so soft. I can't really stop myself from here if I keep describing how it felt, so i'll try to be specific and not over the clouds as I always am with this but- 

It was so sweet. I never felt that way in my life, like I belonged to the sweetness it was given to me freely and carefully. 

It was.. something. Certainly. 

Something I'll treasure and cherish forever.