Some colors outlast others, a variety of crayons sold in large quantity.
Pressed hard, printed on loose leaf paper.
These precious memories.
Molded down, broken. Chipped off in delicious assortment.
Sold by individual wrapper, journeying in delight, mixed with one another.
The beginning of the day finding it's way into night.
A constant surprise, lending a hand to someone else. A fruit shared in generosity.
Sliced whole, seen in vivid color. Modest in the way they meet.
Inquiring God's imagination, finding discipline. Joining each other in unity.
What derives is something greater, highlighting each others attribute.
Conducting themselves in a sense of yoga, traveling in one another's path.
Granting comfort, selfless in how they give. Guiding themselves in meditation.
Casting fear into the wind. A bland expectation. Sitting there without a thing to do.
Post it notes cut into the shape of bananas, a spark of imagination in the hands of a child. Thought to make the work space a bit more lively.
Pictures of friends, family, girlfriends, wives.
There are plenty of ways to create any one color, set in preference to highlight the things that make us smile most.
The fruit of life's harvest.
Presented as one specific color we take for granted.
The variation it takes to make the hue we love the most.
Crayons losing the sharpness of their head, painting the portrait of each moment that passes.
Framed behind glass

In deep honesty,
I know that you keep to yourself.
That no one really knows you except the few you deem worthy.
How I envy their knowledge of you.
Those hidden idiosyncrasies that reveal the secrets to how you smile so big.
I wait another day, seeing your face in reflection.
Reaching out to touch you. Risking the chance that you'll disappear before my hand touches your shoulder.
How I envy their knowledge of you.
Believing the impossible.
A steady faucet that spews with the press of a lever.
I decided to stand still, realizing that I was standing on the wrong side of the sink.
Left dry, hearing only the sound of your laughter.
How I envy their knowledge, knowing exactly where to stand when you rain affection.
The taste of ****** food, left stained. Not much room to move.
Collected in an empty sink.
The clatter of spoons, forks, butter knives, and plates without so much as a cup.
I must admit. I envy their knowledge of you as I am left here stale, without cause.
Seeking you to cleanse me in purpose

I hope that your the one.
Accompanying tomorrow into today.
The time shared from one conversation to the next.
Painting vivid pictures in each other's eyes.
The moments where time stands still, sitting in each other's embrace.
Rushing to get to the phone, hoping that you'd pick up soon as it rings.
Relaying different thoughts, new things to think about.
How much I've missed you, when could we meet again. Do we require permission to do the things we keep to ourselves.
The smiles that reveal how close we keep each other in thought.
The way you look wearing my favorite color.
The start of our imagination getting the best of us.
Spending time with you, becoming my favorite habit.
The smell of my cologne staining your shirt.
The times when all you need is a look. A slight procrastination that leads into different topic of conversation.
The comfort of voices revealed in low tones.
The perfect day dream, your head laid on a pillow.
A random date somewhere out of the ordinary. Drive in movie. Arms stetched out, pretending  to fly like we're kids again.
Big head pretty girl pictured perfectly in my dreams, a pack of starburst filled with pink wrapping.
Real life situations seen as practical. Late night conversations, the need to vent.
Not a thing to do but listen to you speak your mind.
The build up of stress from work, fake friends, the perfect invitation to relate to your favorite vice.
Not everything has to be about ***. I want you for you.
Imagining you walk from one room to the next.
The spark of intellectual stimulation, aspiration, the reasons I miss you as much as I do.
The fragrant aroma of your skin lingering, an incense of thought wrapping around the senses.
Waking up finding myself still in a dream.
A kiss to wake up to. Ensuring the future.
The sun peeping through closed blinds, the wiggling of toes.
The smell of decaf. Coffee in the morning.
Fitting perfectly inside the cup of my hands, the swirl of cream, a couple tablespoons of sugar, swirling about in perfect motion.
This is how I picture us together.
All in perplexed but interesting truth.
The simplicity of it all

At the table sat a prawn, a fish, a glass of water, and a watch.
All trying to figure out who had the best hand.
Two out of three games already played.
Tension drawn on all of their faces.
The fish twitches at the river, caught in thought eying the glass of water.
The prawn in constant panic. Eying the fish.
Stuck in the same predicament as the fish. Winning a much larger *** the last hand played.
The fish much larger than he. The prawn folded his hand.
The glass of water over-thinking the endless possibilities of both the prawn and the fish.
Sweat dripping down the side.
The watch on the other hand, had the best poker face of them all.
As time reveals everyones true intentions.
Revealing a slew of faces

She brought comfort,
The few minutes granted by the press of the snooze button.
The shutter of eye lids reaching the corner of rem.
Choosing instead to sleep rather than face the reality of being away from her.
The hesitation of opening eyes, a morbid reality.
Waking up, coming to the realization that the only perk life has is when your truly unconscious.
Lost in a soft dream. Inhabiting a space somewhere in time that feels like eternity.
An ethereal experience. Filling my lungs in a universe filled with her.
A place containing a medium that dilates pupils behind closed eyes.
Fearing that any moment might be the last.
A unexplainable language, depicted as a snore. The circulation of bliss.
Smiling in a state of sleep.
Interrupted by the sound of an alarm, signifying that our time will be cut short.
Annoyed by the sound of reality blaring it's alarm.
Half opened eyes feeling around to silence the light of a phone.
Modernized alarm. Made convent.
Lost in the sheets.
All made possible by the 10 minute break of the snooze button.
Picking back up were we left off, for 10 long minutes that seem like a lifetime.
All thanks to the press of a snooze button

In pure essence.
Her heart was an ocean and I,
A whale lost in depth.
Not the prettiest of fish, yet I searched for affection.
Living and breathing, I know not what I sought.
Not understanding that what I sought and her heart were one in the same.
Continuing to live and breath in her essence.
She housed me in affection.
Feeding me from the cusp of her heart.
Drowning me in how strong the current of her heart flowed.
Finding knowledge that swam under the tutelage of schools.
I grew to love her in various length.
Splashing down in the depth of love.
She kept me in the darkest part of her heart.
Forever buried in memory. Discovering the light that peeped through despite
how fast the current flowed.
She calls every so often to see if I've found what I so adamantly sought.
Right in front of me the whole time

In monumental testament.
I grabbed a bottle and began to fill it with notes.
In times where reassurance was needed most I replaced the contains of the bottle with thoughts.
Unable to speak in a time where actions proved to speak louder.
Hesitant eyes that waited for reply. Drawing a blank where silence seemed ideal.
On one of the notes I drew a ship on the front and back of it. Sliding it in the middle of the bottle.
Shaking the bottle up and down, I watched it shift back and forth in wave after wave of loose strips of paper.
Rough torn edges, uneven chunks of paper.
Considering myself human for the most part. Taking a minute to walk across the shore.
Watching a ship sail it's maiden voyage.
Blue lines, the smell of paper.
The sound of waves crashing against the sides of the ship.
Sitting down along the side of the shore. Watching a ship caught in a storm of paper.
Reassuringly gathering my thoughts.
The ship drawn perfectly, setting sail across the depth of the bottle.
Leaned upright, splashing down on one note or another.
Following my first mind I sat the bottle on a stack of books.
I still wasn't ready to talk