The Color Green
I can imagine the way she talked,
It wasn’t that different, or strange.
If everyone else was blue,
Maybe she was just a little green.
I can still imagine the way her fingers felt,
The way they curled a little,
And fit so perfectly in mine,
Like they were sculpted that way,
By an artist whose name we forgot,
And that too was a little green.
And I can taste that green still,
And it’s the taste of her lips,
Soft, tender, something new, something right,
And all that would be good could be green.
But it wasn’t all good.
Because I can still imagine the way she would lie,
Her words to me and her words to them never meshing,
And that was when taste became sour.
That taste in my mouth, like ash,
And cheap vodka.
And lips that she’d use to tell herself
That she could change,
That she needed to change,
To me, it all sounded green.
Loud, crashing green,
Like a boom-box turned up too loud.
It was overwhelming, too strong,
And it could force you to your knees if you let it,
I wasn’t enough of a salve,
For her to face the music.
It was easier to pretend then to tell the truth,
Easier to hide than face the consequences,
Easier to close her eyes and avoid the stares,
And she could pretend it was his hand she wanted to hold,
And his lips she wanted to kiss,
And to the rest of the world,
She might have them convinced,
Those color-blind masses,
Where everyone blended,
But to me, she’d always be green.
And I want to blame her,
Because she couldn’t be strong,
She couldn’t show her colors,
And tell the world that she wanted to be green,
That I was worth it,
And that they could drown themselves in a sea of blue,
And she’d only laugh and hold my hand.
And I can’t look back,
With friendly nostalgia,
And remember the good times.
They were all good times,
They were great times,
And it didn’t end because we were too incompatible,
Or because our colors made too murky of a brown.
No, we made a beautiful shade.
We were beautiful.
Made new rainbows,
Blended our colors with different people,
Found new destinies,
But if we met on the street,
It wouldn’t be with good grace,
Because we know,
We would have been happy,
If the world could have loved her,
Even though she was green.