She leans into the blur of silence,
cheek pressed against a mosaic of memories.
Her skin stained by red dreams,
and blue regrets.
Each tear—
a brushstroke,
soothing the shadows.

Orange clings to her like a promise,
the last breath of hope—
she wears it like a cloak,
against the demons lurking in her mind.

She is the quiet between raindrops,
the pause before a sob
breaks the surface,
she is the colors melting into hope—
a canvas of everything unsaid.

She is quiet perfection.