I hate yellow. Maye had left a box for me, encased in it a sunny blouse. I had barely seen what I was becoming until I had already crossed, and I stared at my reflection in distress. The color emphasized the cuts still stained on my body from when you came, my dried eyes morphing into discontent.
Maybe that's why I fell in love with the black accompanying the lights dancing across the sky. The lack of morality gave them such a choice, ironic as it seems. In this world, everything is quiet. No sound, no memories, no pain. Simply stillness.
But then, what am I?
Am I nothing, as you told me?
No matter how disruptive my opinion, I refuse to accept that. Maybe once I had dwindled, disappearing at such a notion. Now, I grab the yellow blouse with fury, placing myself in front of my door. It itched, but as terrible as it felt, I keep walking, until the door slams behind me. The determination boiling through my veins left my body quaking with adrenaline, my vision spotting.
Is this what reality looks like?
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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...