It’s the color of her dress the day that you first met her
“I’m not bold enough to wear purple,” she said.

It’s the color of the smoke that comes out of your ears when her touch sets you on fire.

It’s the color of the sweatshirt she stole from you freshman year of college and never gave back.

It’s the faded color of the asphalt beneath your feet on 7th street where you proposed.

It’s the color of the dog that you share. You wanted to name him Ash, but she said that would be taking the easy way out.

It's the color of her matching bra and underwear set. Every woman deserves to have one in her favorite color.

It’s the color of the blanket that you wrapped around her when it was too cold in your bedroom.

It’s the color of her eyes if you look closely enough. Although they got this way because of old age, you still think that they are just rare enough to make her beautiful.

It’s the color of her hair as she is lowered into the ground: breathless and leaving you behind.

It’s the color of the cloud over your head when you wake up to an empty bed every morning and remember that she’s never coming home.

It’s the color of the sky when it spits at you, reminding you that life without her is as pointless as an umbrella when it’s too windy outside.

It’s not the color of your breath when you exhale for the last time. In that moment, you were yellow.