Wednesday, 17 August 2011
Wild Blue Yonder (#A2ADD0)
I remember watching you dance on the sand, the Pacific blue (#1CA9C9) and placid stretching across the horizon while your shadow (#8A795D) grew longer and longer with the setting sun. In that light your black (#000000) hair looked brown (#B4674D), your white (#FFFFFF) skin tan (#FAA76C) and glistening. Later that night we found ourselves a bar and I watched you dance there, too, while I leaned against the antique brass (#CD9575) rail and sipped my cocktail. You were a wonder.
I remember how you liked to read me trivia from the bottom of your Snapple caps; "the pink flamingo (#FC74FD) isn't born pink," you'd tell me eagerly while I laced up my sneakers. "Fascinating," I'd reply. "Salmon (#FF9BAA) mate for life," you'd tell me, just to see if I was paying attention. "And then they die," I'd reply.
Most of all I remember your eyes, gray (#95918C) and sometimes green (#1CAC78) and always watching me until I'd blush (#DE5D83) with embarrassment or guilt or whatever it was I felt for you then. You thought you had it figured out but now I think we both know how wrong you were, and looking back I can pinpoint the exact moment I found my canary (#FFFF99) in the coal mine. I once pointed out an inchworm (#B2EC5D) steadily making its way up a tree and you looked right through me, like I was the vast emptiness of outer space (#414A4C), like I barely existed at all. That's when I knew.
The memories are bittersweet (#FD7C6E). "I thought you were an orchid (#E6A8D7)," you'd said the very last time we spoke; "I thought you were this rare exotic thing. But really you're just a dandelion (#FDDB6D) after all. Common. Plain old yellow (#FCE883)."
Nope. I'm not. I've every color in the god-damned box.