1. It matches a lot of my things — the sweatshirt I’m wearing right now, the book on my chair, the color of my eyes.
2. It doesn’t match the rest of my things — green plants, yellow table, black and white floors.
3. Its proper name is “Lone Star Flag,” like the state my sister lives in.
4. It’s fluid and fills in all the spaces.
5. It’s a real color, one I can name, unlike the color of your eyes that I could never figure out.
6. It wasn’t whimsical enough for you, so you never wore it.
7. It’s clear and simple, even when everything outside is murky.
8. It’s not too girly, because I never knew how to go about that anyway.
9. Hokusai used the “Prussian” variety to paint pictures of waves.
10. It’s like the kind of light you were, in its superlative form.
11. It never roars, bites, kicks, snarls, or commands. It only drifts.
12. It’s the color of the tea kettle my father gave me.
13. It can be lively or plaintive, whichever you prefer.
14. It only shows up in nature as translucency, and not as an actual color.
15. Whitman had a book this color, but never did much with it.
16. You couldn’t see past the green, or the orange, or the red, so you never got a chance to spoil it.
17. It’s a color the sky rarely is in winter, so we never walked together beneath it.
18. It’s a side of me I’ll never let you see.