The Color Green

I can imagine the way she talked,

And walked,

And laughed,

It wasn’t even that different, or strange.

If everyone else was blue,

Maybe she was just a little green.

I can still imagine the way her fingers felt,

The texture,

The way they curled a little,

And fit so perfectly in mine,

Like they were sculpted that way,

Long ago,

By an artist whose name we forgot,

And that too was a little green.

And I can taste that green still,

And it’s the taste of her lips,

Soft, tender, something new, something right,

And all that would be good could be green.

But it wasn’t all good.

Because I can still imagine the way that she would lie,

And pretend,

And blush.

Her words to me, and her words to them never meshing,

And that was when that taste became sour.

That taste in my mouth, like ash,

And cheap vodka.

And lips that she’d use to tell herself

That she could change,

That she needed to change,

To me, it all sounded green.

Loud, crashing green,

Like a boom-box turned up too loud.

It was overwhelming, too strong,

And it could force you to your knees if it you let it,

I wasn’t enough of a salve,

For her to face the music.

It was easier to pretend, than to tell the truth,

Easier to hide than face the consequences,

Easier to close her eyes and avoid the stares,

And she could pretend that it was his hand she wanted to hold,

And his lips that she wanted to kiss,

And to the rest of the world,

She might even have them convinced,

Those color-blind masses,

Where everyone blended,

But to me, she’d always be green.

And I want to blame her,

Because she couldn’t be strong.

She couldn’t show her colors,

And tell the world that she wanted to be green,

That I was worth it,

And that they could drown themselves in a sea of blue,

And she’d only laugh and hold my hand.

And I can’t look back,

With friendly nostalgia,

And remember the good times.

They were all good times,

They were great times,

And it didn’t end because we were too incompatible,

Or because our colors made too murky of a brown.

No, we made a beautiful shade,

It was beautiful.

We’ve moved on,

Made new rainbows,

Blended our colors with different people,

Found new destinies,

But if we met on the street,

It’s wouldn’t be with good grace,

Because we know,

I know,

We would have been happy.

If the world could have loved her,

Even though she was green.