Mixing Colors


When I was younger my daddy would bring home a black and white cookie

Always there was a strict line between the chocolate and vanilla icing

Always I would take a bite from the borderline, mixing the stern colors to a shapeless, indescribable mass between my milk teeth.

And that’s what I want to do with your mind.

No, I don’t want to eat your brains, but I want to know your chocolate and your vanilla and everything in between. Together we will paint the universe with the flavors of emotion, every color on the spectrum of your roller-coaster heart.

When you play music for me, all the chords are major and ring with warm sunshine, bathing my skin in upbeat rhythms your fingers tap on the hollow guitar. But when you are silent, I know your fingers would pick out minor chords, and I want to hear those too, and I will sing a lilting tune my daddy used to whistle, to go along with your song of truth.

When I first met you, I thought I saw a rock – immovable, invincible, something to cling to through the storm. But when you fell a great distance and cracked open, it became obvious that inside you was not tough stone but glittering crystal, tickling my eyes with colors that could only be born of your imagination. The blue of an ice-covered clock face in London, the pink of a kraken’s raw flesh, the green of a virgin rainforest at sunset.

You are broken. You are beautiful that way. And I want to taste every inch of icing on your cookie.


Image credits in order of appearance:

By Jennifer Rensel (Flickr: Let’s paint!) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

By Knoell8504 (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons


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