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 The colour of blood, the colour of anger, the colour of hunger. Not just hunger, starvation itself, when your stomach echos and your bones feel hollow. It’s the colour passion, the kind of passion that consumes you, takes you will to rest captive and holds it for ransom. It’s the colour of revenge. 


Revenge that was thought through, it wasn’t a slight impulse, no it was planned out and carefully. Plotted down to the very drape of the dress. There is no room for error and no room for compassion. It is all consuming. 


It’s the colour of blood. Blood that stains. It leaves a trail of evidence. It says, “there is no going back, you’re ruined for this world.” 


It’s sharp anger, not seething rage, rather an ‘and suddenly' shape of anger. It happens, one minute it’s still and then is screaming and breaking the window, and in a gust of wind it leaves. Taking all the bite with it. 


~


The colour sunshine and sunflowers. The colour of lemons and the colour of holiness. It’s the colour of bitterness and the colour of infections. It’s a colour full of contradictions, it’s constantly shapeshifting and becoming like the chameleons. It hides it’s true face. Often times if you catch it unaware it will look up and say, “do not be afraid, I’ve only come to bring good tidings.” It’s a habit, people tend to scream. 


It’s like a fire but brighter and more abrasive, harder and soft where it should be jagged and steadfast where it ought to falter. It’s the colour of cleansing and unavoidable pain. 


There is no running, only stopping. It’ll get you eventually, mind as well give in and save you and it the time. It’s fast and will be upon you the second your back is turned. 


It’s hazy and heady. It gets in you mind first and slowly leaks out of your skin. Coating every surface and soon enough it’s all you’ll feel. 


~


The colour of the sky. The colour of depth, and the colour of your soul. It’s the colour everyone says they love, but only until they give it a real look and then they run scared. It’ll let them go to, it only wants the real ones around. The ones who will play with it’s dark parts. 


It’s the colour the ocean wishes it was. It’s deep and free falling, there is no end to the places it’d like to take you. It’ll steal your pockets just to see if it can. It’s mischievous and likes pull your hair. It only grins with any real frequency and the only time you’ll see it smile is when its crying and well and truly lost it.


It’s the colour that once you give it a real look without backing down, it’ll look back at you. Look back at you with reproach, “how dare you play my game, you were meant to only lose.” Then it’ll tilt its head and show you the sparkle in its eye. It was lying.


It’ll let you glimpse your future, if you let it. You might be better off if you don’t, the future is a whimsically thing. Full of uncertainty and calamity. 

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