For My Wife

I remember as a kid,

No one else saw colors like I did,

Before I felt like I needed to hide them,

Before I knew there were rules to abide by.

We’d divvy up crayons,

Scribble pictures big and small,

But they’d no idea what I meant at all,

When I said she looked like the color of the sun,

Or that she sometimes exuded a soft pink hue,

Even back then I think I knew

I was different.

As I grew older,

I learned what it meant,

What the colors inside me would represent,

If I allowed them to come out freely,

Granting everyone permission to see the real me.

Instead I conformed,

And saw life in shades of gray,

And methodically hid that part of me away,

So no one would think that I was strange,

So none of their opinions about me would change.

I often wonder the cost I paid,

The colors lost for friendships made,

What could’ve been if I’d just told her,

That my insides turned blue when she let me hold her,

That the brush of her hand left soft aquamarine tattoos,

I have no idea if she ever knew,

That when she’d sing, my vision went hazy,

The world became tinted in old trustworthy blue,

And whenever she smiled I’d see it too,

My locks of protection falling astray,

The colors always seem to find their way out.

I remember the day it all fell into place,

I looked upon each passing face,

Searching for colors, to understand my truth,

The innocent detail hidden away in my youth.

I searched for colors in the auras of boys,

Mistakenly interpreting the background noise,

As the colors I sought.

But taking a step back to view the whole picture,

I only saw colors when I was with her,

Or when her voice rang true above the din,

That’s when I understood the heart within my chest.

Allowing myself to express my true colors,

Granted me access to the colors in others,

It felt like destroying the ever locked door,

Seeing the world as I’d never seen it before,

Removing the glasses that made everything dim,

To appreciate everything that had actually been,

Right in front of me.

But then I was faced with the most challenging part,

Asking others to hold the real me in their hearts,

To find out if our colors when mixed made a mess,

I confess, this was hard.

People I’d trusted, proved that they couldn't be,

If I were determined to be the real me,

But eventually I’d learn who it was safe to mix with,

Which people and places were safe spaces to exist in.

Although some people’s colors spanned only one dimension,

I still find it important enough to mention,

If you’re trying to expand your spectrum of colors,

You’ll only succeed by accepting others

As they are.

I collected colors like badges of honor,

Hoping that one day I could pour them all on her,

Whoever she was, wherever she was existing,

I’d just had no idea how many colors were missing,

Until I first found myself listening

To the color of her laugh.

Like the color of the ocean when it kisses the shore,

The pages of books your mind craves to explore,

The countdown on calendars to your favorite day,

The color of tears being wiped away.

She’s a golden yellow, like her favorite sweater,

But she’s blue like the color she wore when I met her,

She’s lush shades of green like her wedding bouquet,

She is every color yet to be named.

All of her colors are safe within me,

Exactly where they were meant to be, all along.