Have you considered the color of a memory? - Original Poem

[srm628]

I have.

The day we met is shrouded in grays and yellows. The moment of uncertainty and living with a stranger. The questions contained in our minds: Who are you? We knew nothing about each other then, just that we had one common denominator. We had nowhere left to go, except to live with the Almighty.

Did you know where we would end up?

Months of Mondays and midnights. Months of pretending our friendship wasn’t blooming to please the Almighty. Eternities of silence and beating hearts as I pretended to sleep when she entered the room. The mornings where we would go to breakfast together and giggle because we fooled her. She had no idea what happened the night before, and she never would.

Do you remember the moment you realized the truth?
I do.

The day was blanketed in black. The nights when she was gone, and it was only us in the room. The late nights where I stared at the white ceiling when I was supposed to be asleep, but rather, I was thinking of you.

I didn’t want to admit it.

The night I did was veiled with hazel and blonde. Your head rested gently on my arm. Internally, I panicked as he discussed rape and sexual assault. I knew your past, I knew your uneasiness. I worried about how you felt, about what was going through your mind. Panic slipped in as red as I considered asking him to quiet down.

Were you okay?

I was supposed to help him study, to go on about the topics that made you uneasy, but instead, I found my hands reaching for your hair, softly running my fingers through it. You leaned closer, sighing, purring. We were supposed to go to dinner, to meet friends, but neither of us wanted to leave. For a moment, we both forgot that he was there on the floor. For a moment, it was just me and you.

We didn't talk about it.

That summer was covered in grays mixed with the blonde, brown, red, and pinks of your hair. We’d spend hours every week on Skype, talking about anything that came to mind. Sometimes, we would talk up to twelve hours at a time.

I almost admitted it

A summer day melted in blues and yellows of the sun and the brown of the paint of the porch I was picking away. I told you that I was questioning my identity. There were girls that I could see myself dating, living with for the rest of my life. I set up the question, waiting for you to take it. I was prepared to tell you the truth that night.

But you never did.

What about the night we finally told the truth?

The night it came out was cloaked in the reds and blues of our alcohol combined with the white, purple and black, and the pink, yellow, and blue flags of our identities. The moment that my mind was finally cleared, and I no longer cared about the consequence. I was going to tell you the truth, even if it killed me.

And I did.

The following moments filled with the black of the night, but finally, you spoke. You agreed. And just like that, the second we had been anticipating for months happened. It was silly that we both were so hesitant to admit it, but months of waiting led to this moment.

And at last, my identity was set in place. I never determined a label, but I had a girlfriend.

That realization was a soft blend of reds, pinks, and purples, the color of the flag people believed I should follow, and the promise of Hellfire where my mom thinks I’m going.

So again, I question:
Have you ever considered the color of a memory?

[Nisha Ward]

Oh. This hit me hard. Wonderfully executed and I love the associations you've made here.

[Billy Bookmark]

Very colorful. Lol
But seriously, well thought out and beautifully written

[Moodykelz_10]

I loved it. So well thought out and descriptive. I was so invested, it was such a good read.
I would love to read more things written by this person.

[nicole-adrianne]

So powerful, the way you've associated red with both flags and with your mother's opinion. Beautifully written piece.