Apr 2020
red
The first color in art.
The beginning of a rainbow;
the color pushed out of your heart.
The color of a husky voice and bare legs.
It fills the mind, washing away doubts
and slowly drips onto innocence like tears on the floor.
It is sweat off an old man's brow; it is calloused hands.
It is the taste of your addicting lips.
It is Maria Brink's voice; it is the way 'fruchtfleisch' sounds.
Red is bold, but soft. It speeds up heartbeats.
Red is the beginning of us.
But red is also seeping out a hollow chest.
orange
A difficult color to understand.
One that means organized in the most chaotic manner.
It is dogs barking and it is the sharp and rocky sand.
Orange is your fingers after staying in the water too long.
Orange is the feeling of relief when you've finished all your work.
It is the drunk man's slurred words,
and it is the toxic smell that exudes out of him.
It is a fresh washed blanket, or a pillow without a cover.
Orange is Gymnopédies, No. 1, Lent et douloureux
or Études, Op. 10: No. 12 in C Minor.
It is a storm washing away the chalk on your driveway.
Orange is watered-down coffee on a Saturday afternoon.
Orange is the start to something more.
yellow
Yellow is a tentative smile and long hair.
It is the sky at 3 in the morning.
It is a hot day in summer, biting into a pear.
Yellow is a young girl wishing on a shooting star.
It is a soft voice, but meaningful words.
Yellow are too-big shoes; it is stepping into a puddle of mud.
Yellow is not knowing where the other sock to the pair is.
Painting thick paint over a canvas,
and listening to the song Paris by 1975.
Yellow is a run-down house by the edge of a forest.
Yellow is alluring, yet revolting.
Yellow is banana splits and ripe strawberries.
green
Green is communication, or the middle grounds.
It is a peaceful lake near a volcano.
Green is being alive, and is the way fire sounds.
Green is the smell of an old book; it is a book that takes too long to read.
It is the smell of nail polish remover.
Green is red solo cups and red stains over furniture.
It is the warm air before a storm.
Green is singing the note C while someone is singing G.
It is the tingle you feel after putting on mint chapstick.
It is feeling like your melting into someone's arms.
Green brings life, but it is the most deadly thing out there.
blue
Blue is the match burning out too sickly and burning you.
Blue is a cigarette and the ashes of an unsent love letter.
It is your side of the bed being cold; it is having the flu.
Blue are arms pulling me in deeper.
Blue is the smell of candles; it is watering your houseplants.
It is a soft cat's tail rubbing against your face.
It is the giggles and the claws dug into your skin after it gets scared.
Blue is Empty Bed by Cavetown playing on repeat.
It is running your hand down hair and connecting the constellations on your back.
Blue is two girls sleeping over, but instead of sleeping they're whispering.
Blue is driving your car too fast; you feel free.
Blue is accepting it's okay to be alone. Blue is ****** knuckles.
purple
Purple is home.
Purple is the sound of a crowded street
Or the feeling of the ocean on your feet; the foam.
Purple is the sound your pencil makes on paper
It is the feeling of taking the first bite of a warm cookie.
Purple is the smell of roses; you are purple.
My purple is Hey Jude by the Beatles.
Purple is looking in a mirror; it is open drawers.
Purple is your feet brushing up against mine under the table.
It is your favorite song playing until you can't stand it.
Purple is the last color in a rainbow.
But purple is anything but the end.
Purple is the start to a brand new beginning.
The first color in art.
The beginning of a rainbow;
the color pushed out of your heart.
The color of a husky voice and bare legs.
It fills the mind, washing away doubts
and slowly drips onto innocence like tears on the floor.
It is sweat off an old man's brow; it is calloused hands.
It is the taste of your addicting lips.
It is Maria Brink's voice; it is the way 'fruchtfleisch' sounds.
Red is bold, but soft. It speeds up heartbeats.
Red is the beginning of us.
But red is also seeping out a hollow chest.
orange
A difficult color to understand.
One that means organized in the most chaotic manner.
It is dogs barking and it is the sharp and rocky sand.
Orange is your fingers after staying in the water too long.
Orange is the feeling of relief when you've finished all your work.
It is the drunk man's slurred words,
and it is the toxic smell that exudes out of him.
It is a fresh washed blanket, or a pillow without a cover.
Orange is Gymnopédies, No. 1, Lent et douloureux
or Études, Op. 10: No. 12 in C Minor.
It is a storm washing away the chalk on your driveway.
Orange is watered-down coffee on a Saturday afternoon.
Orange is the start to something more.
yellow
Yellow is a tentative smile and long hair.
It is the sky at 3 in the morning.
It is a hot day in summer, biting into a pear.
Yellow is a young girl wishing on a shooting star.
It is a soft voice, but meaningful words.
Yellow are too-big shoes; it is stepping into a puddle of mud.
Yellow is not knowing where the other sock to the pair is.
Painting thick paint over a canvas,
and listening to the song Paris by 1975.
Yellow is a run-down house by the edge of a forest.
Yellow is alluring, yet revolting.
Yellow is banana splits and ripe strawberries.
green
Green is communication, or the middle grounds.
It is a peaceful lake near a volcano.
Green is being alive, and is the way fire sounds.
Green is the smell of an old book; it is a book that takes too long to read.
It is the smell of nail polish remover.
Green is red solo cups and red stains over furniture.
It is the warm air before a storm.
Green is singing the note C while someone is singing G.
It is the tingle you feel after putting on mint chapstick.
It is feeling like your melting into someone's arms.
Green brings life, but it is the most deadly thing out there.
blue
Blue is the match burning out too sickly and burning you.
Blue is a cigarette and the ashes of an unsent love letter.
It is your side of the bed being cold; it is having the flu.
Blue are arms pulling me in deeper.
Blue is the smell of candles; it is watering your houseplants.
It is a soft cat's tail rubbing against your face.
It is the giggles and the claws dug into your skin after it gets scared.
Blue is Empty Bed by Cavetown playing on repeat.
It is running your hand down hair and connecting the constellations on your back.
Blue is two girls sleeping over, but instead of sleeping they're whispering.
Blue is driving your car too fast; you feel free.
Blue is accepting it's okay to be alone. Blue is ****** knuckles.
purple
Purple is home.
Purple is the sound of a crowded street
Or the feeling of the ocean on your feet; the foam.
Purple is the sound your pencil makes on paper
It is the feeling of taking the first bite of a warm cookie.
Purple is the smell of roses; you are purple.
My purple is Hey Jude by the Beatles.
Purple is looking in a mirror; it is open drawers.
Purple is your feet brushing up against mine under the table.
It is your favorite song playing until you can't stand it.
Purple is the last color in a rainbow.
But purple is anything but the end.
Purple is the start to a brand new beginning.
