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That was our color.
I held on to you.
I didn't want you to go.
If I let go,
You'd be gone,
For the summer.
But you released yourself,
You'd be back.
To bring me something blue.
Before you left,
You plucked a,
You gave it to me.
To help you remember,
You never came back.
The bluebonnet wilted,
My heart did too.
Was our color.
Do you remember?
Colouring InSometimes when I'm bored, I doodle in my head. I take up an imaginary pencil and draw leaves and flowers on the trees, birds in the sky, butterflies which land on my arms. I fill the sad world with colour. I draw smiles on people's faces.
My brother was a soldier, but they sent him back when he couldn't shoot anymore. I draw him back his missing arm and a medal on his chest and make his mouth touch his ears at each end. He doesn't smile much, now, and he says they don't award medals for bad luck.
I colour in the square, grey buildings of the city which fills my canvas as far as I can see. The library is green, like the plants I've seen pictures of there; the hospital is red for blood; the prisons are blue for sad; I fill in the government building with black; and the adjoining military headquarters is bright orange and yellow for the bomb which started all this.
I draw Mummy next to Daddy. She holds his hand and her smile reaches up towards her pencil-dot eyes. Sometimes I draw in her
The Demon's NymphDeep in an underground cave, crystals glowed the entire cavern in a blue radiance with what little light they received. The caverns glow sparkled onto the water, creating a spot light. The water spun in a whirl pool, churning in reverse, levitating upwards as it created a humanoid body. A pale blue female humanoid body with a long flowing and strapless dress created from the water of the pool. Her hair was black, silky, and formed around her bodice. Her eyes were sharp, electric yellow, glaring at whatever lied before her. The water nymphs lips were in a permanent scowl as she crossed the cavern with long angry strides.
Her arms rose, palms up as a jagged crystal rose in sync. The tip of the transparent crystal was an orb of chaotic spinning black water, pulling in the light around itself like a black hole. The water nymph pursed her lips, her hands gently cupped the orb. With a small kiss, the orb collapsed, splattering like black blood all over the ground.
The water nymph watched wit
Six Word Story ContestAround the World in 80 days
"Ma'am? Where is my yellow submarine?"
TigerStriped black and orange,
master of camouflage and,
Time is Purplei. It's the last week of January and all I can think is that this is the end of the beginning of another year, and I wonder what time really means anyway.
ii. The man across the street from me is living in the time before people knew what purple was, when everything was blue or red and there was no middle ground. It was black-and-white, and gray was black-or-white and purple didn't matter because we didn't need it. When did it ever matter anyway?
iii. The sand is dropping through the glass, but the glass is blue and the sand is red and as each second flows by I realize that time is purple and the sound of a clock ticking away is purple, and nothing's black-and-white but everything is a shade of gray, and that's the way we need it to be.
iv. That man's house is full of light, light that's white and pure and clean, but I've always thought the happiness was a shade of yellow, or a pale green. I thought that happiness might be blue, or the lavender streaked shade of the sky at d
Last NightLast night I watched the fireworks. They were bright. They were beautiful. Shimmering lights of blue, red, green, gold, silver, and white decorated the night sky. So much smoke rose into the atmosphere, adding a much more spectacular effect.:thumb312036274:
As I watched the wonderful sight, I couldn't help but feel a little sad. Yes, the fireworks were a beautiful thing to see. But as they burst into the air, all I could think of was Jake. I wish he was here. I wish he wasn't up in Twain Harte. I wish he could wrap his arms around me. I wish I could see the fireworks light up his face so I could see his smile.
At the thought of him, a smile tugged at the corner of my lips. He might not have been able to be with me last night, but one day, I'll take him to see the fireworks, and I'll get to see that smile.
Fruit BasketSucculent sweet berry
Candy blood cherry
Blood orange desire
White grape crier
Red delicious danger
Pink lady stranger
Lemon's viper venom
Sweet fruits do beckon
An Apple for the TeacherHer name was Miss Mills. She was twenty-two years old and fresh out of college, and my son was a student in her first ever kindergarten class. He fell in love with her on the first day of school. He never told me this, of course, but a mother always knows. He came home that first day and he sparkled as he told me everything that had happened, how Miss Mills had read them a story from a brightly colored picture book and how he had hung on her every word.:thumb317130043:
"And I want to get her an apple," he announced.
"An apple?" I asked. I was peeling grapes for his lunch the next day.
"Yes," he said, "it was in the book we read today. The kids, they gave their teacher an apple, and I think it would be a nice thing to do."
"Alright," I said, "we will get some apples. Any kind of apple in particular?"
He thought about it. "A big red one."
The next morning he marched off to school with his big proud apple held delicat
Roses.Rose red glow in simple death.
Pure, white light of heaven sent.
Yellow shine, and glimmer bright, for death be sent by the night.
Black rose called for shadowed night, to claim the hellish glow.
Pink rose know that lovers lost begot what best became.
Tyrian PurpleTyrian purple:thumb316259687:
lips match the blue
fingerprint bruises wrapped around
her throat like the latest fashion.
and a gulp of air
rushes into the silent stage
of a delectable crime scene.
They prod her body like sushi with chopsticks;
the air tastes stale, unused.
One uniform brushes fingertips
across her velvet skin while
another admires the glossy black hair
missing a single lock.
Home is where the heart is - Cyprus“Home is where the heart is,”
and my heart lies with you.
The four seasons’ tide
may ebb and flow
but my devotion to you
as I lay on your lawns,
Spy a bud
and watch it bloom –
metamorphose into an emblem
of sheer grace and elegance.
A true child of your soils.
Gaze into your heavenly azure
and fall into a world
of fabulous fiction.
Let loose your solemn breeze
- a whisper in the willows –
and temper my brow
as my mind wonders
into further chimerical creativity.
Give ear to the wind
and the harmonious music it bears.
The dainty call of the jovial lamb,
the content purr of the Aphrodite cat,
the melancholy melody of the pallid swift
and the lyrical chime of the jay.
A symphony – your graceful genesis
and you, the grand conductor.
I merely remain seated
and admire the allure
of your mystic magnum
Isn't it funny how a small thing like a colour can change a life completely? The gay pride sticker on Michael's car for example. Six innocent colours, one would think, but reason enough for the entire rugby team to beat him up.
I am rainbow coloured, too. No, I am not talking about my sex life here. I'm a tattoo addict. My skin is covered in black, pink, blue and red ink and my hair has been dyed in various colour since I was a teenager.
Colours seem to be standard uniform for failure in the eyes of those who love to be right. Those who refer to themselves as being normal. There are quite a lot of them. Especially here, in this dull little town.
I am proud to be different.
With my head held high I walk down market square. I feel the eyes of the others on my back, stabbing me like miniature daggers. I can feel them shake their heads and point their fingers. The town drowns in cloud of nasty whisper.
I want to laugh.
Of all reasons, they judge me for my colours.
Colours are a dis
Case of the White KnightPre-Chorus: (acapella)
Just another wayward lover
You took my heart and ran for cover
And now all my flags are waving
But you're the one who needs the saving
You got a case of the white knight
But you don't know which war to fight
So you run run away
For another chance to save the day
Verse Two: (Guitar joins my singing)
I know that you do remember
The days of the magic December
But still you run away
And deny that my heart's yours to stay
And you can tell me all you want that
You're leaving me and you won't be back
Because I know, yeah I know
That we're not over, we're not over, no
You can do your best to run and hide
But I know you'll be by my side
And you won't change my mind
Because you know that I'm the stubborn kind
Soon you'll know
That I won't go away
And your heart is mine to save
But until then
I'll be here for you
Every step of the way
*Pre-Chorus and Chorus*
OrangeOrange is the blush of yellow:thumb316724193:
Reading second most in the rainbow
Aligning itself complimentary to blue
Notable for its tang and acidity in cuisine
Greater in warmth than blue or green
Even encompassing earthen hues.
Orange is the flush of life
Rendering us fruitful with zest
A pair of polarizing glasses to make the world vibrant
Never dying fire of intensity
Glowing high above the dark
Exuberant as the sun in the sky
Orange is the dye of mortality
Reigning its irrefutable glow over humanity
As it waves goodbye, a loved one departing
Necrotizing nature until the day after
Grave of the fireflies, virulence of the impoverished
Evidenced by the bruised peel of ripeness
Orange is that special feeling you get
Right after your beloved kisses you in the morning
A thousand horses galloping inside you, invigorating
Not only the mind, but the heart and soul
Gripping and squeezing your essence into a cup and making you ingest it again
Everything, everything, becomes orange.
Coffee CupHe longed to be her coffee cup
Purple lipstick around his edges
Slender fingers wrapped around him
Every single morning
And the nights she couldn't sleep
The Ivy and The TreeWhy must the
Killer ivy hang
Upon every branch
Of the tree
From which humanity
Draws its life
And thus poison
All speech with
Only breeds sorrow
Green GrapesI love green grapes,
but is it the alliteration
or the taste?
Her Favorite ColorOne of the first things I ask people when trying to get to know them is, "What's your favorite color?" I can name the favorite color of every person I've ever had a crush on, every close friend or any interesting person I've met over the last two years. I forget names all the time, I forget important dates, favorite song titles or the day we met, but I never forget colors. Maybe it says something about my character that such a superficial detail matters to me the way it does, but I even have trouble saying I know people well if I don't know their favorite color.
Needless to say, the day someone couldn't give me that distinction put me through a loop like no other. I had met Selena two weeks prior during our school's first Gay Straight Alliance meeting of the year, a club dedicated to spreading acceptance and whatnot. I didn't really identify as anything in particular, but the people that went were all so interesting I attended simply for the company. By identifying as "questioning" I w
Searching for the SunI.
The day everything ended, she was standing in a parking lot, weary from a long day of departures and destinations, staring up at the sky. Clouds strolled west, their armfuls of grey dripping out of their grasp and spattering onto the asphalt, onto her upturned face. They rolled and crashed into one another, piling up high in the stratosphere like mountains of cottony stone. Once, they had been at war, and their arguments had sliced across the countryside with the recklessness of a summer fire. Now, though, something had calmed them. Perhaps they were tired from their travel like her, or perhaps it was the sun, gently wedging them apart with scalding fingers. Its light had almost gotten lost behind the celestial battle, but soon grey faded to white, white flashed gold, and the sun finally reached down to where she stood, there next to her father, on the last day he remembers before everything ended.
It was hard for her to imagine now, how she could have gotten lost so easily thos
ColorI stare at the rows
I think I've already looked
at all of them
I put another to the side
three on the side
I stop and look
the bottles next to me,
I'm the prettiest!
I can't choose
I can never choose
maybe this one
or this one
Maybe I won't like it
or they won't like it
or we won't like it
it doesn't matter
but it does
I'll just pick one at random
I close my eyes
stop that one
Wait it's red,
I wore red last time
But all of this
no one will notice
no one ever notices
I see all my flaws
but others don't
how can they see my flaws
if they don't see me
I put away these colors
so much color
waiting to be picked
Would people notice me
if I was a color
I shouldn't care
so why do I?
Colourful LanguageThey talk blue. You see red.
Pink Second ChancePink Second Chance
Maybe the pink had been a little too much. It made me feel like a piece of bubble gum.
Still, I was wearing it. He liked me in pink. I wanted to show I was making an effort. I was moving on. Letting him in.
So pink it was.
"What. Are. You. Wearing?" Alex asked as soon as he opened the door and got a good look at me.
I smiled. "It's a sweater."
"I can tell. Bloody hell. It's pink," he muttered. He sounded more dumbfounded than the time he had tried to read my physics book. I had to admit the expression made him look extra cute. I immediately felt bad for thinking that. Alex was not who I was here to see.
"Yes I am aware it's pink. Ric happens to like pink on me," I said as I pushed passed Alex and into the apartment he and Ric shared.
"Screw Ric, I like it." He grabbed my hand turning me around so he could stare some more. "Heck, I love it."
"But I didn't wear it for you," I growled pulling my arm away from his grip. "I wore it for Ric. Where is h
Next week: Fantasy and Fairy Tales