I Cannot Change the Colour of the Sky
Now I am just blue. Blue, blue, blue. Not a cornflower blue, or an ocean blue – more of a lonely blue. Perhaps like icicles – no. I’ll figure it out – because I somehow believe if I know what shade of blue you make me I can turn you into my shade of red. Except I can’t change the colours of people anymore then I can change the colours of the sky.
And if I am all these colours around you – you are just grey because I make you feel nothing, and I always will. Perhaps yellow when you laugh.
When you see me, you are a grey sky with a hint of sunshine. When I see you – I am a burning sunrise of passion; I am a pastel sunset, a perfect daydream of childlike nostalgia and dusky first stars of memories yet to exist; a rainbow of highs and lows that change when you compliment me, when you dismiss me, when you type my name with your fingertips – but most of all, I am alone. Black.
I didn’t fall in love with the way you looked or the way you laughed – I fell in love with your words. I fell in love with your mind. I fell in love with the very colours of your soul. Or more specifically how you changed the colour of mine.
If only I were as perpetual as the sky – I could spend eternity waiting for you – but I am not a sky – no – although I may dream like a cloud – I am not a sky – and you do not love me – not even as a friend.
I am not a sky – I am a girl.
And perhaps I must decide whether I should be blue or yellow, a sky or a girl, a dreamer or a realist.
Should I gaze at your sky forever?
Or put that piece of sky away in a drawer, close it tightly, lock it with a key…
And hope these rain-like tears will not rot the wood.