Colors of the world

When assigning colors to things, I think that:

 

Logic is black against white and white against black.

 

Music is also black and white, but music curls black over a white sheet, diffusing slowly, while logic is angular and motionless, standing stark against a background.

 

Truth has color.

Ugly truths that must be said but can’t are orange. Not a safety orange or a sunset orange, but the orange of mildew or glowing coals.

On the other hand, absolute truths that spill easily from the tongue are blue. They are calm and always there, just as the sky is, even behind the clouds.

 

Lies also have a form. Lies are grey, leeching the color from what they touch. A cold, unfeeling grey that dims the world.

 

Life always seems green to me.

Life comes with plants pushing through the soil and warmth and laughter. Fun fact- a human can recognize more shades of green than any other color. It's the colored pencil I sharpen the most because it's used so much. So, life is green.

 

It depends what kind of death we are discussing to name a color.

Murder is as red as can possibly be, redder than blood, as red as a flame.

Being dead is back to grey, but not the grey of lies. Instead, a calming cloud grey that does dim the world but doesn’t dull everything.

Suicide is black. It’s an ink spill in the middle of a book, obscuring the rest and leaving a chapter incomplete. It covers all other colors and just smothers them. 

 

*Unfinished from a few years ago. Just wanted to get it out there.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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