the fullness of Absinthe.
Date: Mar 2011 9:20:26 - Subscribe


I remember asparagus because of the food.

Beige because of my mother and her insecurities when it comes to bold, brash colours. Black because it's not a colour and yet they say it is. Blue because it's his favourite and blue green are her eyes.

Bright green because it's life - only lighter, more carefree. Brown wet mud. Cerulean I don't even know. Cyan I don't remember, just the name, some vague memory. Dark blue - dusk and dirty metro rides. Dark burgundy is uniform and distant.

Dark violet because it's like violet on the rainbow, only darker, more thoughtful. Emerald is an indulgence, something rife. Gold, at the end of my rainbow.

Wisteria is here.

Indigo because it is a burning hearth that never existed. Magenta are living room walls on a redundant day. Mauve because it's purple and timid me. Orange because I used to love the flavour. Navy blue is childhood, yellow a favorite - not mine. Purple because it's so close to being my favorite, it almost could be. Shocking pink because it shocks and doesn't shock anymore.

Silver for the charm bracelet that I've since lost.

Tea green because I love tea. Nostalgia.

Terra cotta, because it's pottery and her old living room walls and I miss them. Turquoise because we went through a phase where we loved it. Lemon because it's bright and disgustingly cheery.

White. Because it's clean, untouched. Perfect.
White, because it's the absence of all colour, of everything.


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