"Sometimes I Think in Colour"

sometimes i think in colour... (or mich finds herself in a sort of mood)
by mich pharm

Sometimes I sit here, or in my room, and it's late, but I can't seem to muster up a little sleepiness. Looking beyond the small lamp on my desk, it's dark and all is still and quiet, everyone's sleeping except for me. If I'm in my room I sit there in bed listening to the small plot of trees blowing in the wind, sometimes I hear nothing, always it seems quieter than before. Soon there won't be any woods in my backyard at all, just a few sparse trees, if I'm lucky. No more squirrels or deer or rabbits will come to root around the grass for a bite to eat. Maybe I don't care all that much except that it'll be so deathly quiet.

I'll hear a train two miles away, I hear its whistle and it fills my ears along with the steadily growing roar as it nears and I close my eyes and I can see the light shining right on me, me frozen, me unable to move. And I'll open my eyes and it's dark again, and it's quiet again, and the smallest noise quickens my breath just that little bit more. Staring down the unlit hallway, all I see are blackened, dark, colours concentrated and serious in their rousing of autumn visions and mocking offerings of burgundy riches and fine old wine from French vineyards. The dark makes everything seem smaller, closes up spaces, and I can't help but notice my breathing is more than just a bit ragged now.

I close my eyes and beg for swirls of amber eggshells not yet shattered and bathe myself in tints of blue, refreshed by equal cools. For a moment the impression of airiness, for a second opulence, then the flooding of dusky shadows that render saturation of senses shades dimmer than before. All the while using the wrong hues, sworn by cactus and iguana green, falling deeper, I watch the sun reappear and disappear for what something tells me is the very last time. All left is the greyed brilliance of mauve sinking lower and lower, an ounce of red betraying hope.

Red, the ultimate that can't be ignored, the final cling to what I know can be good if only I can find it. Red letters that surround me and give me power, the force and boldness of red that symbolises my deepest loves and hates. They seek attention to take control of the emotional overdrive that threatens to leave me crushed, and they wipe out the hates, the fears, the dark. They radiate a softness never muted, a promise never broken, a love never-ending, my red letters.