COLOURS

missing you is blue.

like the top i'm wearing, 

the pen i'm holding,

the book i'm reading and 

the ink i'm using.

a blue that i can't describe whether is it pleasant-looking or awfully twisted.

a blue that i can't even describe its hues.

is it more of yellowish? or greenish? 

is it more of vibrant? or muted?

i can't describe. but i feel it. and i see it.

it looks ugly at first. hideous, even.

a colour you want to hide behind the darkest corner in your closet.

a colour you feel repulsed to even look at.

a colour that no artist would use in their work.

a colour that everyone overlooks.

this blue shows my weakness. 

my weakness that i crave you in so many ways i can't put it into words and you would never understand. 

my weakness that whenever i look at you,  my pupils dilate and i smile so wide my face looks like it's going to split into two.

my weakness that no matter how you try to push me away but i keep coming back.

and i try, and try, and try, and try, to convince myself this colour is part of me.

then it looks beautiful.

a colour nobody wants to look at, except me.

a colour nobody wants to use, except me.

a colour nobody understands more than me.

a colour that speaks volume of how much of my love for you it contains that nobody can hear.

i miss you.

i miss your eyes. 

those eyes that crinkle at the corners when you smile whenever i do something silly.

those eyes that told me so much about you that you yourself will never even mention about to me.

those eyes that are like an abyss, a whirlpool, a black hole—whatever you call it that sucks someone in entirely—and that i never want to stop falling.

those eyes that i look into and i know i'm home.

i miss your smile. 

the smile so wide that only i got the privilege of seeing. 

the smile that makes my rotten day bloom like beautiful sunflowers whenever i see it.

the smile that makes me smile even when you aren't even in front of me. (like now)

the smile that even the sun tells me he is envious that someone is shining brighter than he is.

i miss your lips.

the lips i always lean forward to peck ever so gently involunteerily—on the escalator, in the cinema, in the lift, by the stairs, in the queue, everywhere just because i can never get enough of you.

the lips that are always so gentle against my skin.

the lips that i don't mind kissing all day.

i miss your voice.

the voice that i wake up automatically to when i doze off on your shoulder in the mrt.

the voice that makes my day whenever you call.

the voice that i am oh-so-familiar with.

the one and only voice i want to associate with home.

i miss you. i really do. i miss the colours you inject into my life when you hug me, when you touch me, when you talk to me, when you laugh at me.

you said, "my life was black and white and when you hug me, i see colours." but now you are the one stripping me of my colours.

come back to me, my rainbow. 

your existence in my life is the best worst thing that ever happened to me. 

the colours you brought me were so vibrant no words can describe. 

i don't like how you are stretching the rainbow like a rubber band now. waiting for it to snap. waiting for me to leave.

come back. bring the colours you took away with you back to me.

i miss you, my number wan. i do.

Sent by Jolene