Feeling Blue?

If sadness is blue, what’s the color for despair?

How easy it must be to wrap a natural human emotion up in a pretty one syllable word. One defining both great beauty and tragedy. How I wish the words to describe my pain came rolling off my tongue like a bead of sweat in summer. How many different languages do I have to scream for help before it actually arrives? How much must one look back until someone appears? Why does loneliness feel like a death sentence? Or a scream in a sound proof chamber? My frown is as great display of emotion as my smile. Braver even. I await the one who’ll paint my insides yellow. I anticipate the singing from my caged bird once again. My efforts may seem like unworthy offerings. Like a fine Pinot Noir in a styrofoam cup. Not the prettiest sip but enough feel the whole night through. At the cusp of morning, staining my heart a dark-violet, crimson, and orange. Pushing light into the darkness as if pulling back drapes in the morning. The color of my despair is always changing. Like the sunrise, my better days haven’t officially arrived, but are surely on the way. The war in my sky between night and morning has a sure victor. Me.