When I asked you of your favorite color
You told me that red looks great on my dress
But you wouldn’t paint a wall with it

Green makes a nice salad
But you wouldn’t necessarily want to eat it

And when I asked you about blue,
Shaking hands with silence left me feeling more estranged than usual


Though the sterling midnight sky
And the bitter cup of coffee
Couldn’t match the ridges of coal
Between the pool of amber in your iris
And the smoky black that was the pupil

The rain that pelted the window
I had imagined to be a harmony of hues both
Forest green like the towering pines and like the
Hunched weeping willows with their tears being
A myriad of cerulean now cascading from the ash clouds
Which gathered about our heads



A quiet thrumming of traffic in the torrential downpour
Tends to sounds like the collective beating of a scarlet heart
With highways as blue and violet veins
And capillaries screaming across the mortal plane
With each thump, each minute, each color

But with heavy eyes and dark plum circles rounding out your lids
You sat there straining to grasp the train of thought that
Kept being derailed at every word
With each merciless stare and meek disdain
That was once splattered pink across the face of your mother

And without a further misconception or
Dejected thought
Suspended in a time frame of confusion
You grabbed my hand
And with muck-brown eyes
Looked into mine like a sailor lost in shadowed blue waters
And spoke of love
With golden glazed verbs
And honeyed adjectives
Weaving intricately together



So then I stand
Pull out my hand
And taking the bluest depths of the ocean with me
Storm out to the concrete lot

But you catch on
And with pleading eyes the color of a pitch black chasm
Try and make me sympathize
To agree
To understand
To stay and to listen
To love and to hold



But how can I?
When you don’t even have a favorite color.