a soul searching for a home

The red in my blood is heavily saturated

Bright neon swims through my veins

The midnight streets of Tokyo gleam beneath my skin

An intoxicating hum of rosy red flushes my face

I use to think that I only existed within my own skin

For far too long I envied the deoxygenated blood passing through my bloodstream

Such a quiet blue

It settled within me like the cold waters that lurk beneath a lake frozen over

Dark, isolated, and free

When the skin is severed, a muted purple will spill from my seams

Perhaps this is good and evil attempting to coexist within myself

My desire to relieve the pain I carried tainted my very being

Thick black tar stained the walls of my flesh

I watched time carry on without me

Tangled in static, I felt helpless to watch as my life drained of color

She told me in a poem that I was bright yellow

The yellow seen in floral skirts and lemonade

Now that she’s gone I am left to illuminate my own soul

I will borrow from the sun until I can fully let her go

Where does the color of a flower go after it has wilted and died?

What will become of myself after I leave this life behind?

He told me over the phone that the browns of my eyes shined like crystals in the sunlight

Now I pick cherry blossoms from the tree tops and suck every last drop of pink from the petals

Lively hues of magentas and violets ignite my pupils

I find particles of myself in the evening sky

Sweet pinks and flushed oranges spill down my cheeks

My essence has escaped into the world’s atmosphere

I wait for the rain to come down and wash over me

To bring me back to the clouds and pour all I am over this earth

When all I have to offer has run out

You will find me far from here

Scattered throughout a momentum of color

I will be the black dirt imprinted into your palms after you’ve hit the ground hands first

I will be the brown speckles caressing the blue shell of a Robin’s egg, teasing a promise of new life

I will be the faded yellow of a wilted dandelion you’ve forgotten in your pocket

I will be the beige in the particles of sand you find at the bottom of your bag, an inconvenient reminder of happier times

I will be the muted white of a moth's wing, fatally flying towards a misunderstood moon

I will be the burning orange of a lost ember, the one that strays too far from home and starts a forest fire

I will be your everything when I am finally nothing