All I wanted was someone to be my colour.

All I knew was blue from tears I wept from numbers upon numbers and counting grams of sugar

Sometimes red from the blood that I bled from my rib cage punishments for imperfection

Sometimes a sickly green from regurgitated bits that came mixed with the bile of my throat, emptied into a porcelain bowl

Sometimes a ghostly white, from the ghostly way I looked and felt, devoid of colour completely

Red and blue and green made me scream

Until I found my orange.
My citrus fruit picked fresh from a tree on a summer day.
My shiny pumpkin from an autumn patch
My neon tulip from my spring garden
My sunset every night.

He coloured me golden.  
Made me feel like fresh honey on the tips of tongues
Like a bumblebee nestled into a daisy or a sunflower
Like something King Midas touched
Like the golden rays of light from hot sunshine that melts ice cream
Like a soft, pale yellow from early sunrises that only the wide eyed can appreciate

My palette consists of his colours that give me my senses, and the colour he made me find within myself.