You gave me the rose the day I showed you everything. Intriguing enough, the rose attached to the little vase and refused to let go. I sat at the kitchen table and pondered how the flower was surviving, especially since the vase was considerably smaller than it had been months ago.
Granted, your personality was the same as everyone else. That might've been what the vase wished for me to understand so long ago, but I will never be certain.
The rose may not have died, but it began to fade. Everything faded, and now all that was left was white. White walls, white vases, white flowers. Maybe there is a certain beauty with this plain nothingness left inside. It left room for new rainbows, which only came with the new clearness from my tired eyes. I supposed my eyes were white as well, I barely saw color after that day. It sounds dramatic and overzealous to hear such a claim I'm sure, and I wish that had been the case.
Now that there was nothing left, nothing became home.
This is why I fell in love with the color white.
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...
