Bruised colours

I had always been blue

The colour of a light sky

Or a copious amount of water

I shimmered like polished lapis

Bruised with bright prussian blotches;

But bruises nonetheless

I can’t recall when the shades of persian

Shifted to a deep Indigo

I felt an inky black seep in

Surrounding my throat and squeezing ever so tightly

Indigo turned to plum

Plum flowing into a bright flamingo;

I didn’t feel like one

So I covered it all

With paints of sapphire and cobalt

And turquoise and teal

Yet even so I felt the fuchsia

Writhe under my skin

Begging to rip free

But I drove it down

Capping it with a dark pitch

That sealed it off, quiet once more

I can’t recall when I realised

That my blue had only been bruises

I felt the sable be chased by a fierce lilac

Washing away from the depths and crevices

That I had thrown it in

I had always been pink

The colour of a sakura tree

Or a light, sugary treat

I shimmered like polished rose quartz

All on my own;

But shining nonetheless