I Think Of You In Colors

viktoriaalisevich
viktoriaalisevich

I think of you in colors because it’s easier to paint a picture of “us” and then translate it into words.

You are yellow: the color of a bonfire. You’re the burning sensation that spreads to my stomach when we brush past each other on the beach. You’re the spark that lights the fuse that blows everything up. Suffocating and entrancing, you begin to devour everything I am. Yellow. You’re the break of dawn creeping in through the cracks of the wooden door and covering the room with a glow. You’re waking up from a deep slumber to the taste of bliss on my lips.

You are red: the color of my sunburn. You’re mornings napping by the ocean and sideway glances after a couple of drinks. You’re a collection of gestures easily missed, but always present. The gentle tug of a t­shirt, a soft whisper or a hand pressed to my side. Red. You’re the rush of blood to my cheeks when we meet up outside and kiss deeply. Burning me from the inside out you are every shade that tints my skin.

You are green: the color of neon lights. You’re a fast­paced city and every cramped up bar we can squirm ourselves into. You’re the taste of alcohol hitting my tongue and the smell of cigarette smoke that soaks up the air and melts onto my skin. You’re motorbikes swerving through alleyways and taxi drivers asking where we’re going. Green.You’re the enchantment of something springing into life. You’re new beginnings, like buds that blossom after winter.

You are blue:
the color of your eyes. You’re the waves that crash along the coastline and dissolve into foam. You’re midnight conversations and early­morning goodbyes trying to fight away sleep. The color of the skyline seen from the airplane window, wondering what will come of leaving this behind. Blue. You’re my Picasso, a feeling of gloom swallowing me whole. You’re like a river flowing through me, constantly moving and readjusting its path.

You are white:
the color of my sheets. You’re a crumpled duvet and closed blinds with incessant phone calls from friends.You’re the color of my bones when they pressed up against yours. You’re the empty space between my body and the bedroom walls, pillows piled up on the left side of the bed. White. You’re a flash of light, gone with the same speed and force that brought you to me. You’re the silence that sweeps through an isolated landscape. White. The good and the bad. The presence of all colors. TC mark

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