as much as i hate admitting it to myself, i still do type your username on the search bar. i still remember your birthday and the way your blue eyes shine when you smile. i still wait for a someday where maybe we’ll cross paths again but deep down, i know someday doesn’t have a date. i still lay on the floor, listen to your song and feel my tears filter through the cracks of my broken heart. no one told me getting over someone would be so damn hard, if only you would’ve come with a warning sign…
i long for the day i won’t see you in my dreams anymore.
so he’s gone and you’re trying to let this go with him but it just won’t leave and you just can’t forget. this is an ache like lazarus; it is alive when it shouldn’t be, it is back and bigger than ever. it hurts that the memories are so soft and at the same time so goddamn wrecking ball. he was never as gentle as you remember. this was never as perfect as your naive high school eyes saw it. it’s hard to let go when the hurt is a leech and you are always bleeding. it’s hard to breathe easy when your head is always underwater.
It wouldn’t be red. Red is powerful and vivid and vast.
You wouldn’t be Orange - warm, welcoming, and vibrant.
You probably wouldn’t be as soft or as bright as yellow.
Nor would you be as fresh and wholesome as green.
It wouldn’t be blue, either. You are not deep enough or mysterious enough to call yourself blue.
You aren’t passionate enough for me to call you indigo and
You aren’t loved enough by me to tell you that you are violet.
You aren’t a new beginning like the way white makes me feel and you are not as edgy and as beautiful as black.
You are a color of your own: bland, monotone, and incomplete. There is no space for you on my color wheel. There is no space for you in my life.