A Letter in Color

To my two best friends

who apart are the pastel pink of hidden flowers and the muted navy of your favorite jeans

but together are not violent no,

they are fuchsias and cobalt, screaming to every rod and cone that the other is worth everything under the stars and more.

To my sister

who doesn't quite hit the red of the blood that does not connect us

she strokes the sunset orange her grandmother said looks good on her

and is flooded with the turquoise of waves her mother has spent so much time on

she has built herself silver and plum, a world of her own

that she sends me slices of in the narratives she types in her bedroom.

To my parents

the evergreen of every christmas tree put in front of the back window

the forest of our kitchen walls.

Juniper is comforting;

the comfort being found in the constant of green when it surrounds me as I step out of any door

the comfort of pine needles because I feel watched over as I make my way into the woods

leaving a trail of living-room-beige breadcrumbs

to find my way home,

yet always feeling safe among the trees.

To my brother

who is burgundy

a mixture of mahogany and indigo with flecks of everything else thrown in

an ensemble of the shadowed colors that paint the lesser seen sides of living.

He is the faded bronze of worn out strings that allow you to play on.

He is the deep hickory of every stained hardwood foundation.

He is the hunter green of the blanket I take from his bed when I miss him too much.

To the others,

to my friends,

to the boy colored charcoal who speaks in fragments

but is protective with a sharp tongue of flint (constantly on the verge of speaking flames).

To the girl behind thick black frames

doused in electric cerulean bleeding from stage lights  

pouring primsacolors on to paper, illuminating others with rose tinted gels.

To the boy covered in freckles who speaks periwinkles, champagnes and mints

he is a chalk pastel piece that I have watched come together gradually for years

blending out harsh edges to create something intricate hidden in shading.

To the people who fill all absence of color,

to the people who have blended and glazed everything I know,

to the people who have created this palette,

my palette,

my filters,

my lenses,

thank you

Sincerely,

The Girl of Sangria and Gold