I decided to paint a portrait of you, but ended up splashing colours at the empty white paper.

It was chaotic, but darling, so were you.

The thought of you often came accompanied with colours. Vibrant, burning in my inner eye with an intensity that pushed me towards the edge, which made me want to hold my paintbrush and paint you out.

Maybe this is closure.

Vividly, I think of you.

You are simply a perpetually happy person, and you carried that happiness with you like an aura sharing it with whoever was near you. Like an earthbound sun, whenever someone was within your gravitational pull, you warmed them.

I close my eyes.

Yellow.

For all those times you smiled and complimented women who weren’t me, allowing the green monster of jealousy to consume me. For those times you made me feel young, fresh and alive.

For those Friday picnics we had at the park with the company of trees and birds singing love songs.

Green.

Do you remember the colour of the first flower you got me? Or the dress I wore on our first date? You said it made me look like royalty, sophisticated and feminine.

You asked me if I could be your queen. I said yes.

Purple.

For your love of red lipstick and making me blush at your sweet words. For when I drove you crazy and pissed you off till your face turned red. For all those times we ate red velvet cupcakes and strawberries till we were full. For how our love was deep and intense.

Loud as if announcing to the world that love exists.

Red.

We met at the sea of this beautiful city. You complimented the sea instead of complementing me. I was jealous. Later on you said everything about me reminded you of where we met. “The sea?”, I asked.

You said I was moody just like it. Some days serene, calm and refreshing other days, turbulent. You said I carried its scent with me, between the strands of my hair.

For the colour of your eyes, and all those times you made me feel down.

Blue.

For all those black and white movies we watched together and the colour of your car. For all those days after you left me.

For how you like to have your coffee.

Black.

 

 

 

 

Author: Rawan Hani Khalil

Editor: Renée Picard

Image: Surian Soosay at Flickr