I would take the colors and splatter them all over you, I don’t care what color lands where, I don’t care if it fits together or not. I’ll just breathe color back into your dead soul. You’d be beautiful, even if you’re a mess. You’d be alive.

You’d be less vile. I’d be less angry. We’d go on long walks again that won’t end up in us fighting and cussing. We’d be best friends again. I’d kick my shoes off and wade into the waters with my clothes fully on while you laugh, and I’d feel safe knowing you dream of me on the same nights I dream of you.

I don’t care if you’re beautiful – you’re not beautiful. You’re probably uglier than most. But who am I to care? I’m far from beautiful myself. As long as your imperfections reflect on my soul, I couldn’t care less. As long as I can tease you and you’d smile, as long as you speak fondly of me when I’m not there, I’m happy.

I’ll rub my fingers into the colors and draw my crappy doodles all over you, watch them break apart, and then redraw them again slightly better as we laugh till we cry, then cry till we laugh and lay back in the mud – shooing away the tiny insects that creep over us. As long as I got you, there’s little they can do to harm either of us.

And when it’s the flowery season, and all we get is dust in our eyes, we can just huddle closer together and cough it out. I’ll wash your hair with the colors and you’ll be as good as new. If it gets too bad, we’ll just dream the flowers back instead of the dust and color them together. Not reds and violets, let’s color them electric aqua and vibrant green – because why not, right?

With the full palette of colors in hand, let’s paint a new dawn for you and I. Let’s be friends, or lovers, or friend lovers. Let’s paint colors of hope and resilience. Let’s bash the walls and run, alive, wherever we want to go. Let’s color life, because I can’t take the darkness anymore. I can’t take not seeing or touching you anymore.

Let’s not die. Please let’s not die.


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