Colour Blind

Red flags mean shit all if you’re colour blind.

Look out for the red flags, everyone tells you.

He doesn’t get along with your friends, he thinks it’s cute when you say no, he thinks all of his exes are crazy…

But how the fuck am I supposed to see red flags if I’m colour blind?

Did you know a bull is colour blind?

You could have a purple flag or a yellow flag, and he would still run towards it, because he is simply enraged by the idea of failure.

I am like every stubborn bull, running towards a red flag, even if it will eventually harm me.

Even if I will faint in exhaustion.

Even if I know I will never get that red flag.

I was 16 the first time I ran.

He was two years older, and I did not like him.

I was trapped in a kitchen so that I wouldn’t say no to his proposal of becoming my boyfriend.

I was trapped in a bedroom when he asked to put it in, and I was trapped in some illusion of owing him something or owing myself nothing, when I said yes.

He trapped me in a web of lies and broken promises, and I trapped myself in guilt for trying to change him.

My hooves were entangled in barbed wire, and my cries for help were muffled by false hope of…. Resolution?

I spent a year untangling myself,

And with every prick from a prick, I mean barbed wire,

I got more and more angry, enraged by the idea of failure.

The red flag taunted me, constantly within my grasp, but I was fucking color blind to it.

Someone had to tell me where it was, everyone had to tell me where it was, but it was too late.

I had been trapped for too long, and I wanted a do over.

I wanted a whole new obstacle course, a whole new muleta.. Bull fighter.

I had to prove to myself I could reach that red flag, so I wanted harder, longer.

Bring in guy number 2.

He was my age but taller, much taller.

His spine had to be double in size to hold up that enormous brain of his.

My words had to be two times as clever to hold his interest.

Old enough to drink, but not old enough to know better.

Walking with him was hard, keeping up with his stride, trying to cover the distance he was covering.

He was always covering distance.

He taught me how to walk, but he also taught me how to stumble.

I stopped wanting to walk alone, to be alone.

He made me sad to be alone.

I made me sad to be alone.

My spine was twice as small to hold up the void in my brain and my heart was twice as small to hold up the numbness I was feeling.

I was a young calf looking up to him, and I couldn’t find the red flags anywhere.

I didn’t even know I was supposed to be looking for them with him at all.

Someone had to tell me where it was, everyone had to tell me where it was, but it was too late.

I had been trapped for too long, and I wanted a do over.

I wanted a whole new obstacle course, a whole new muleta.. Bull fighter.

I had to prove to myself I could reach that red flag, so I wanted harder, longer.

Third time's a charm.

He’s younger, I’m older, I know better.

It’s Easter and I love chocolate.

It’s three Easter’s later, and I love him

One more Easter, and I’m hungry enough to eat chocolate for two.

It’s two more Easter’s after that and I’m sneaking his son’s chocolate.

It’s days before Easter, and we are discussing who gets him on which days.

Easter is our favorite holiday.

Was our favorite holiday.

He untangles my hooves, and he stands me up.

He sees that I’ve stumbled, and he says, “Lean on me, you seem hurt.”

I paw the ground at him, and flex my nostrils in his direction.

I am a stubborn bull with a temper, and I will not trust the enemy.

He pets that spot behind my ears; you know the spot I’m talking about.

He tends to my hooves, bandaging the damages, licking my wounds.

He listens to silence and he hears all of my pain.

He feeds my soul with acceptance, and my body with pleasure.

He waters my mind like a seed, and he is the sun I use for growth and exposure to a paradise.

He sees that I’ve stumbled, and he says, “Lean on me, you seem hurt.”

I reluctantly press my weight on him, expecting him to crumble, expecting him to turn away, expecting him to give up on such a broken, useless animal.

He takes the weight of us, lifting me into his arms, and I look into his eyes for the first time.

They tell me he has run through glass and coal, and now he is running on water.

His eyes look refreshed and hydrated, renewed.

The water splashes up at me, and I feel it too.

Suddenly, I feel the water beneath my hooves, realizing he has released me to run alongside him, animal and human alike.

We run on water, fingers intertwined, red flags behind us, and running towards the opening in the gate to escape.

His legs gracefully float over the water, but I feel the weight of my bull sized body trying to pull me down.

My hooves can’t paddle, and I realize all too late that bulls can’t swim.

He looks back conflicted, let’s go of my hand, and pushes me under.

I flop frantically, trying to reach the surface, trying to reach him, only to find he is on the other side of the gate.

He closes the door, his eyes no longer looking refreshed, but thirsty for something better.

And the water that surrounds me turns to red.

I watch him watch me, as I lay there soaking wet, lungs burning,

I can’t call out.

He runs off, never looking back, until he fades into a future I can no longer see off in my distance.

And I am surrounded by red flags.

It looks like a blood bath, but really it is black and white meaningless fabric to me.

I am too fucking colour blind to see red flags.

Someone told me, everyone told me, I told me, do not run with him.

I curl up inside myself and wish to be a cow.

How I want to be surrounded in a greener pasture,

Never having to fight a red flag again.

I do not want a muleta… bullfighter.

I am too fucking colour blind to find red flags….

Sorry I have to cross that out.

I am too fucking colour blind to find Love.