Colors Behind the Glass ✓

the sunset pt. 4

It was raining again, sprinkling tears into my tangled hair. The blouse had morphed into one of a soft blue, frowning back at me.

    The first time it rained astounded me. It was a humid evening, sitting on the porch, anticipation in hand. First one, then another, until the deafening sound erupted. What an amazing feat to bear witness to, of course, I had no understanding of what it implied. I simply relished the feeling of water rolling off my skin, until I couldn't stand any longer.

    I had desperately tried, but could not capture the beauty at that moment.

    That is the last moment of color I can recall.

    I was now attempting to clean the mess I had created in the house. Paint cans littered the floors, various colors splattered at random on the wall. If it was any consolation to my own disdain, the vase had remained intact, as had the picture of us I kept locked away in my memories.

    I cut it the next day. The heat and discomfort surrounded me and with no knowledge on how to heal my fractured hope, it was gone.

    "You look like a boy now."

    Good.

    I didn't perceive my image this way, but the self-consciousness that rang through my head refused to go silent. Why should I think I am worthy when you didn't? That had been my initial thought, as though by force of habit.

    I pushed it away. Locked, behind the idea of you.

    Once upon a time, you had been the greatest fantasy my mind had painted. I wished nothing more than the happiness you could have brought me, the idea of love outside what I had lost.

    I was foolish.