White
A tone, an absorption of colour.
A clean slate, the colour of rage
The parts of the eyes that you aim for before you die
Crash-Bang
Flash
You are in the unknown, unafraid, heaven close enough that you can finally see the clarity on a page.
I'm sorry that I stutter, my hands gittering with my heart clanging as I touch the marble in which we are made,
to build ourselves up from transparent ashes.
I am the colour of lies-seen as a harmless thing, sending away rays of refracting light.
The last thing you see when you die-
I'm sorry that I'm not as soft as I used to be, like the white chocolate that bleeds from the fondue fountain
You never never liked me on my own
I am alone.
A piece of art, that is before you decide to make a change, an empty canvas, always a start unclean after the stain, never taken as I am.
I am not an often used pencil, I am ignored unless the situation calls for it.
I am told that I am the goal of purity and the colour of religion.
A colour that is "represented", but I have never felt so alone.
How often do you think of me?
I am the intimidation and untouched higher goal of creators
I'd give my entirety to be colourful again
to stop being an erased stain.
A tone that is mistaken as a colour, just as I am mistaken for mentally healthy, the same.
It is a refraction but can never stand alone
a relatable highlight
because just like the colour I was given I am just here to brighten others works, others paintings, shadings on black paper to stand out and brighten the way for others-
But never my own.
I am the colour white
Copyright © Sidney-Faye Wiggett Newton | Year Posted 2020
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