flavors.
everywhere she went, the people around her were glowing, every color of the rainbow. every aura came with a taste. strawberry red, creamsicle orange, lemon yellow, kiwi green, blueberry blue, and grape purple. she could see if they were aggressive, creative, optimistic, ambitious, calm, or independent. her mother was milky honeyed blue, protective of and nurturing her two daughters, tall and serene. her father was bell pepper vermillion, an optimistic light in her life who was fascinated and passionate about his work as a physicist. her sister was lime green, calm and a little quirky, who loved to travel and to take photos of nature. even her cat had a color, raspberry purple, playful and energetic, always climbing over their birchwood fence and running around the neighborhood, chasing after butterflies.
and her? she was deep, midnight black. the absence of color. the absence of taste.
and then she met him. and he was white. sweet, sour, salty, bitter, umami white. all the colors. and all the tastes.
Like you
You are the second person I have seen in my life
that has felt right.
I knew your heart the moment we met;
Our energies collided,
both recognizing a like soul.
Your kindness, ambition, scars, happiness, and humor radiate
from you, and are confirmed
in everything you do.
There's a feeling in my bones that no matter what I do,
I will only find peace with someone like you.
@dominospice
The Earth Has a Mighty Hue
They travel about the cosmos
Tiny little galaxies,
Bent and misshapen and whirring about.
They're simple, yet complex
And nothing could ever exist
But for the gluey nature of their inner cloud.
They fly, soar like eagles
Screaming and commanding
Yet silent against the great empty dark
Until a stray particle falls
Tumbling through leylines
Following invisible strings til they spark.
Tis not electricity
Nor friction nor magic
Of a glittery sky, photogenic and grand
But a simple step
A transfer of energy
Forcing an electron from its hand.
Bright, haunting, beautiful
Colors hang up high
In northern skies for perfect view,
And all it takes
Is a bang and a crash
To give the Earth its mighty hue.
La Promenade
On a day much like any other, a woman went on a walk.
She briskly made her way down the avenue, smiling at the blooming roses she passed. The grass was a polished green, dew glistening like diamonds against the morning sun. She closed her eyes to listen to the birds. She opened them, squinting against the glow of the day. The world seemed brighter, her steps lighter, and her grin turned into a laugh.
Just as so, morning begat evening and the teapot's whistle echoed throughout the house. She quickly made her way to the stove to pour it into a gilded teacup. The liquid was a warm, deep bronze. It tasted sweet enough to make her melt. The aroma softened her face and relaxed her to the bone.
With the coming evening, the frogs inherited the day's song and made a jubilee with the crickets. Sitting down on her creaking rocking chair, she couldn't help but notice a shrouded figure standing beside her.
He was silent and still. Tall and lanky. The sounds around her seemed to soften, and the evening sunset turned to dusk. He nodded her way, stoic in his countenance.
She smiled at him, loving and tender. Rising from her chair, she knew it was time to retire. Before she left, a gentle touch to his arm signaled her farewell.
He watched her leave, motionless and observing. As soon as her patio door shut and the lights were turned off, he left to go about his business.
The steps he took were precise and measured. He contemplated, watched, and listened. The sounds of the night quieted until the air was laden with silence, one that weighed his anxiety down to torpor. In his languid gait he found peace.
He sighed, his walk progressing much like the other night. Looking up, he slowed his long gait to pause by a familiar rose bush. Leaning close, he softly inhaled the sohpisticated scent. The aroma brought him a memory of a dream long forgotten, tucked far away. Perhaps it was because she loved this rose bush. And this made perfect sense to him. But, oh! What perfection it was to feel the warmth that spread in his chest! He pulled away in haste.
With a perfunctory nod, and a good yank to straighten his jacket he stepped off once again walking the course. As he neared his destination, the very home he started from, the sun dawned and she welcomed him home, a golden herald with open arms.
This night ended like any other as he finished his walk. Another morning craned impatiently over the horizon. But this moment, the moment lost between worlds, between day and night, was quite literally magic. In these seconds he also lost his senses, much like the woman did years ago. Looking into each other's eyes, they lived a thousands lives before the morning so rudely intervened.
Though the day bekoned her, as the night did for him, the permanence of the emotion they carried as they walked their separate ways filled their hearts with tenacity. Yet again, during the twilight, they would surely meet again. And perhaps this time he'd finally tell her the thoughts he had on his mind.
Inside the courtyard,
The sun is a little brighter,
Little beings run around,
Splashing the old courtyard with new colors,
Memories are everywhere,
Even in the corners,
Where the benches, darkened with age, hide under the pink-reddish buildings,
But now having seen hundreds,
They still feel alright,
And give off a calm, elderly smile,
The trees are all tall,
Lazily shading the small bushes from the sun,
As the light wind causes some of the worn leaves to float back to Earth,
The cobbled ground has bent inwards,
From the weight of memories and colors,
Bright glowing happiness,
Untainted by the news of the constant tragedies,
Fill my cold memories,
And become my haven in a tough world