Kyra is a painter, but she's colorblind.

She makes someone else's world colorful but hers is grey.

Whenever she draws in the middle of spring afternoon, she tends to whispers to the singing bird on her shoulder.

"For whom I draw still hasn't been decided, and I wish to meet my muse soon after the season's end."

Two days after spring.

She's being asked to attend her friend's rehearsal.

A pair of her brown eyes is glued to the pianist as his melody hits her right. His fingers gracefully dance in tuts, faster than anyone's breathe, but not so fast compared to Kyra's hand sketching him.

"I find my muse." She whispers in happiness. Gaze falls to the quick sketch on her hand.


She asks her friend about his name, eyes sparkles with love, so pure, so honest.

"His name is Will. He's special like you."

Her brows furrow in confusion as she skips a heartbeat.

"Special? Like me?"

"He's a pianist but he's deaf."

I was colorblind
You took my grey world and filled
It with your colors

i might just be a catalyst,
a-change-your-life,
*******-mindblow-you type,
but fear will keep you
steadfast like an inchworm,
slowly making his way.

you are a sunday morning.
we all love sunday mornings,
the car rides with nowhere
specific to go, but when the
salsa-colored sky fades,
we never regret what
we did on that sunny
or even snowy, day.

i am thursday, which is
my favorite day of the week
which is no surprise to those
know who know me well, best.

some people hate thursdays
because it's the cooler,
kissed-half-of-the-basketball-team squad,
older sister of
wednesday, but it's still not friday,
the prom queen, of the week days.

but for some of us,
thursday is the new friday,
and i hope that's how you see me
because even though i'm not sunday,
i will make my way.

i don't move inch-by-inch,
i wouldn't even say i walk,
or even swim at all.
quite frankly, i hate swimming;
i hold my nose with my fingers
after gasping for air because i'm
afraid i'll inhale water and obviously,
die.

i fly like a butterfly, or some
other flighted living thing.
and i'm not one of those black
and white butterflies, even though
i act like the world is black
and white sometimes.
i am colorful.

i am colorful in my words
and actions, which catalyzes,
because remember,
i might be a catalyst,
that fear that will keep you steadfast.

because right when you think
you figured me out,
i will flutter by you,
and you will be in utter shock
with fear or with love,
changing your life
and blowing your mind.

but maybe that's the problem.
maybe you're the one that sees
the world in black and white,
and although this colorful
butterfly is making her way
into your sunday mornings,
you, my inchworm,
are colorblind.