if i fill my house with color

Photo by David Pisnoy on Unsplash

if i fill my house with color

(bunches of flowers, dining table art)

and keep the brightness as close as i can,

push my sweaters onto my arms

until the pink and yellow threads

weave themselves alongside my veins —

.

if i keep the color beside me

(in sparkly eyelids, cherry cheeks

that look like i’ve been laughing)

so my shoulders surrender to gravity

and push away the urge to linger

long enough to feel the lightness —

.

if i shock my senses into believing

the world is bright and not despairing,

i might find spaces to feel stiller

and moments to be fuller, feeling

feelings from a little me, twirling

in mismatched purples,

not knowing paint will dry on my walls

over the castles i’d fall asleep under

or that not every blue goes together,

even when you’re told they will.

not knowing waking would one day

be aching, and blinking would bleach

out the color.

.

if i fill my house with color

i’ll find blues that go together

and castles to fall asleep under

when i blink and it all turns grey.

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Helena Ducusin

Helena Ducusin

Putting thought to paper and hoping it’s coherent.