Papermate Blue

Papermate blue,

The color of my childhood bedroom.

I picked it out,

Brought in a pen as a shade sample.

I knew exactly what I wanted.

It was what everyone else wanted.

The primary wants.

The blended desires came later.

Mixed and muted,

Crafted and matched,

To meet changing needs.

A sudden ache,

to turn the inside out.

I had spent many years bruised,

Black and blue on the outside,

Healing and hurting,

Doing what needed to be done.

Neutral and nonoffensive.

When I picked up a paintbrush in my twenties,

I burst.

Kaleidoscopic,

Somehow both,

Captivating and alienating.

Lost and Found.

Inside out,

Bruised hues sink through.

Amid my mother's rosy resilience,

My father's sage teachings,

Peachy fads and pearly long-time loves,

You can still pick out my Papermate blue.