my Ruby Red

If colours didn’t come alive at the beginning of the day,

If only the still & dampened shades were chosen to stay,

Our fragile world might crumble like clay.

I feel Ruby Red as a colour of rage,

Reminding me of those who’ve hurt me,

It gets darker with age.

Yet the necklace I wear with its Ruby Red stone,

Reminds me of childhood, reminds me of home.

Purple lives in my heart as the memories of my grandmas,

And makes the merlot I consume when I have a dilemma.

Rose is my cheeks when I think about my traumas,

But also the colour of my moms' favourite pyjamas.

Blue is so much more than the sky after it rains,

It is the scent of fresh air that makes its way through my veins,

Climbing up to my brain,

Where Blue often lives in the eye of my hurricane

The spectrum of tender thoughts that formed when I trusted who I was,

Outshined even the brightest of colours in the Rainbows above;

No colour can describe how it feels to love who I love.

The reality is that my Ruby Red may be starkly similar to your Blue,

Perhaps the look of our Rainbows stem from entirely different hues.

What I have come to learn is that colours are simply a projection of our feelings,

And that no matter how brightly we see things,

It is not the colour that clings,

But rather the joys and sorrows that experiences bring.