Member-only story
Your Blues Colored My Skies
Poetry
maybe I began not as a baby waiting inside you
but the canvas you meant to be your masterpiece —
flooded with all the paint of your cascading emotions.
when I was so little and you were so big to my eyes,
you were a flare of yellow-orange, sunshine personified,
the warmest thing in my ever-expanding world of colors.
things changed when you began to wilt from sickness,
your reds seeping out more and more every single day,
until I was splattered from all the excess pain and fury.
and then there were the blues that flooded outward,
nearly taking me in the undertow of your turbulent tide,
until I couldn’t see through the murky waters you emitted.
what I remember most of all is the nearing of your end,
and all the grays that followed like silent soldiers marching,
leaving me desolate in the encroaching shadows of grief.
now I face myself, the canvas you littered with colors —
no masterpiece, I know, but something is there in the chaos —
and I see it, like a revelation, a vision: the rainbow of you.
Originally published at https://vocal.media.
