Member-only story
Back When My Smiles Bloomed Like Flowers
Prose Poetry
yellow — marigold kiss under starlight, sultry shampoo circling the drain, the din of dishes clanking in the sink right before they go into the dishwasher, the way your hand felt in mine right before you tugged me to the refuge of our bedroom
green — four-leaf clover hunts, the perfume you bought me for Christmas, the crackle of pine needles beneath our feet as we dance to some old-time melody, the tattoo I traced on your back when things like boundaries meant nothing to us
red — dying roses on the casket, the lipstick I wore that smudged before we had even left the church, the bags of blood squeezed into you when there was nothing else to try, the blush on your cheeks from an overzealous attempt to make you look lively one last time
black — your withered eyes when the heart monitor signaled your end, the dress I picked out just for the occasion, the snap of the suit picked for your final big day, the gaping abyss of a hole now in my chest
blue — my goodbyes, my letters, my tears, nothing nothing nothing to tell me what to do from here because all I see is the afterimage of you —
the colors drained away the moment I called you and you didn’t answer
my smiles bloomed like flowers — but only when you were here
