My first instance was on a chilly day. The child-like wonder beholding my eyes so evident, skipping along the street without a doubt of conscious. If any consolation, the disastrous concept of falling was so beyond comprehension, a bizarre just waiting to be discovered.
"Hey, come back in for a moment, won't you?" The call deterred the little confidence I was feeling that day, washed away as the skies began to let out painful cries.
She was a beautiful concept. While that can seem a misconception, I assure you, she was the picture of excellence. The words slurred on and on, my little personality, such a mocosa, of course, she knew of this before I had.
Blue. Green. Yellow. Her eyes were captivating. The color was endless, a sea of calm and serenity. I often found myself lost in the idea: what of yellow? It held no prominent importance, a simple lace in the fabric. She explained to me later, as I found out, that one is always the other. A pair, if you will.
I sat alone most of the time after, for after seemed too close, but distance appeared to be too much time. I know you neglected to comprehend what purple was visible, probably letting it act as an invisible act against your character. It was never such an attack, of course, you never knew this. It was never so simple with you, with anyone like you.
"Lonnie." Your voice. The grey consumed you, but I will never be able to pinpoint when this instance occurred: it simply became.
I had watched the rain begin to harden, the anger seeping in between the cracks in the street made from each hateful step encasing it. "It's cold," I state quietly, my eyes fixated on the tree.
The tree. It was the creature I forever acknowledged as memorable. Such a tall figurine, a grace about it. The insignificance radiating off of you mixed with the image of contentment. I named it after her, of course, my mind only going as far as a remembrance before locking the blood away, most definitely not for such a rainy afternoon.
"Am I crying, or are you?" I pondered. You grabbed my hand, carefully walking away from the place in which I had rooted myself. No matter where I was taken, I had already begun to grow, whether I had been aware of it, or concealed the shades.
YOU ARE READING
Colors Behind the Glass ✓
Poetry[COMPLETED] Lonnie has been through several life-changing events. The most impactful is the death of their abuelita and the loss of someone close to them as they came out as non-binary. They have struggled with coming to terms with these two facts...
