Color

I lie in a pool of pink.

My head is above water,

My arms circle myself.

I feel alive.

My pool, once black, has shifted

With the color of my heart

For years the universe was black and white.

But a laugh

A joke

A smile

Changed that.

It shattered my world, letting light and color seep back in and fill the cracks.

I bathed in the individual colors of my personality.

Pink, soft, a word I seemed to always become

Green, vibrant, growing, as I always am

Red, rage, as my irritation never seemed to stop

Blue, upset, always upset, never satisfied

White, empty, longing to understand the holes left

Gray, unsure, if the colors actually exist, or if I'd just made them up

And finally, yellow, radiating, happy, glowing, because now, I am.

Happy.

And tingling with life.

Bathing in all of the colors that become me.

Drinking in all the emotions that surround me.

Drowning in the overwhelming need to be alive.

The need to be human.

The need to feel.

And after two, bleak, colorless years, I do. I am. I feel.

It's exhilarating.

And depressing.

And finally, I can be depressed.

The weight of my dullness is lifted, allowing me to breath again.

Breathing.

A simple task taken away by the overwhelming weight that'd perched on my chest for what felt like a lifetime.

It's gone now.

Flown away with a dark flap of it's wings.

Startled by the laugh

That shook my chest

And broke the color draining shackles.

Blue was the first color that consumed me, follow closely by red, then gray, then white, then green, then pink, and finally, yellow.

Oh, yellow.

Like the tendrils that fall down my cousin's backs, shining in the bleak sunlight, as they dash around the house, bounce on their horse's back, splash through their pool.

Yellow, like the sun when it's high in the sky and slowly cooking my blinds when I'm tucked away under my covers, regarding the screaming street kids as they frolic and pull me from my sleep.

Gold, like the jewelry that adorns my grandmother's ears and neck.

A sort of bright, welcome color of the best smelling candles and the warmest, crumbly desserts.

Oh, sweet, blissful, yellow.

Bright and warm in all the right places.

I bath in the color.

Drown in it.

Sip it.

Relish it.

The pool that laps around me makes me human. My feels-pure and unaltered, never fading, always vibrant-hug me, leaving no part of me untouched, unfeeling.

I am, now, human once again. Broken, incomplete, but human.


Author's Note: I'm doing a poetry unit in english. We have to write four poems: Ode, Parody, Carpe Diem, and Sonnet. This is none of them. So. I don't know what to do with it, other than publish it here and get some...feedback? Poetry is so weird. I'm not sure if I have a knack for it. I feel more like an author of short stories and cartoons than a poet. So, please, some (any) constructive criticism would be lovely. What can you take from this? What do you imagine? What do you see? How does it make you feel? Idk. I wrote this poem to try and illustrate what it felt like to be able to feel again after such a long time. Back in September, one Sunday, I was in the car with a friend of mine. My sister was there. I told this joke, and it was so funny, I cackled/screamed, and it was as if someone had thrown a rock through a glass window. My glass window. And suddenly, I was able to feel again. The world had become so...black and white, gray, dull two years ago, and I didn't even notice how everything had lost all of it's color until that Sunday in September when it all came flooding back. Can you get that out of this? If not, what could I add?