We were a mix of colors.
We were orange, the color of fire. We burned brightly together; you lit me on fire, and I swallowed your flames. When we burned ourselves, we threw our fingers into a bowl of ice before going right back. Everybody wants to be set on fire – it’s passion. It’s real. It’s dramatic and dangerous and you can’t help but watch as everything burns to ash.
Ash. That’s the color of grey, the same way our “situation” was always grey. There were lines separating black from white, and we fell directly into the middle, crossing them on a regular basis before coming back into our center. We reveled in it. It was wrong to cross these lines, wrong to meet in the first place, but you taught me flamenco, so we danced across each boundary and then back again.
Blue. The color of your bedsheets and the ocean. We rolled around for hours until the early morning, kissing and fucking and making waves. I almost drowned repeatedly, but you pulled me up and fished the water out of my lungs with your tongue. I got used to the cold and being unable to feel my extremities because you never held my hand.
White. The color of the calm when you pulled me to your chest. The harsh color of the light you turned on whenever we were through. The color of my dress, pooled on the floor. The color of your teeth when you flashed a smile at me, a rarity, something I cherished each time I saw it.
And then black. The end. The goodbye that never happened. The color of our screens when we tried to reach the other, only to get the voicemail instead. I didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to admit that you were right – this wasn’t forever. I didn’t know how to picture a future without you until I did. I honestly didn’t think it was possible, because you were a part of my life for so long, and how do you let go of somebody who has changed you in so many ways?
You told me I was a part of your DNA, that I gave you memories you would never forget. You’ve poisoned my thoughts, too. I think this is something neither of us will ever be able to forget. I hate you for that. (No, I don’t, but it’s easier to say that than to admit that this is hard for me.)
We were a mix of colors, all across the spectrum. Dark and bright, pastel and neon. We were my favorite color scheme, one I see everywhere, now, because I don’t see you anymore.
We were a mix of colors. I’ll never forget you. And I hate you, but I don’t. Thank you for painting me. I would not be who I am without you.