Colors of Me

I am red
Like my mother’s lipstick I smeared on my mouth when I was a child
Outside the lines resembling a clown
Instead of the movie star in my imagination.
Red, like the smudge of blood in my underwear
A few months before my thirteenth year
Accompanied by cramps and praise that I was a woman.
Red, like the roses from my first boyfriend
Before they shriveled and dried to a crusty brown
Just as quickly as our ‘love’ evaporated.
Red, like embarrassment and anger
Worn across my cheeks as clear as clothing
Stamped into my countenance.
Red, like lust and love
And knowing the difference between the two
So the same mistakes aren’t made again.
I am red.

I am orange
Like the taste of sweet Florida
Juicy and ripe
Always with the pulp, extra pulp.
Orange, like carving pumpkins in the cold
With icy, chapped hands
And a bucket for the seeds,
Molding the eyes to the perfect size
Matching them until they are too big,
But at least equal.
Orange, like the traffic cones of driver’s ed
And hitting just enough to feel ignorant
But still get that blurry picture taken
And lie about my weight.
Orange like the flames of age
Burning the pages of youth,
Savoring some memories and erasing others completely
As random as the freckles on my arms.
I am orange.

I am yellow
Like the dandelions gathered in the yard
Proudly presented in a bouquet as a gift,
A weed in disguise as a flower,
Leaving golden spots on skin from the ‘butter’ game.
Yellow, like the innocence of blond curls
Before they darkened,
Brown and straight, in later years.
Yellow, like the too-sweet lemonade
A dime for a Dixie cup
Sold at the end of the driveway.
Yellow, like the sharpened pencils on exam day
With the dagger of graphite and the smudgy eraser
Streaking pink across the future.
Yellow, like purity and happiness of the world
Seen through the eyes of a child
Before the shadow of knowledge consumes the light.
Yellow, like the neon highlighters
Screaming “remember this”
Although most words are never revisited.
I am yellow.

I am green
Like the grass stains on bare knees
And the taste of the outdoors
Free and alive.
Green, like all the Christmas trees
Shedding their needles on the carpet
And filling the house with the unmistakable aroma
Of winter celebrations.
Green, like the juicy pear jellybeans
Whipped at friends,
Overpoweringly flavored projectiles
Whirring through the air,
Destined to strike but not meant to hurt.
Green, like the crumpled dollar bill
Discovered in the jeans’ pocket
Before washing them
Later spent on Barbies
Or bubblegum
Or magazines
Or diapers.
Green, like growth and change
Becoming a new person
As the years trickle by
Like the melting lime popsicle
Leaving a tangy syrupy trail as it falls.
I am green.

I am blue
Like sno cones and cotton candy
Of imaginary flavors
Staining the inside of my mouth
The color of summer skies
And childhood cartoon characters.
Blue, like the roller coasters and waterslides
Squealing down after a long build-up
Stomach somersaults, and feeling young.
Blue, like the first pack of eye shadow
For a more mature look
Ending up like a drag queen on Halloween.
Blue, like my different dresses
From the velvet first birthday
To the sequined senior prom
And the “something blue” ribbon in the sea of white.
Blue, like watching the shore crash onto the sand
Washing up treasures
And sweeping away trash and debris
And knowing it is time for change.
I am blue.

I am purple
Like the grape jelly from the sandwiches
Just like mama used to make
With melted peanut butter oozing out the sides
Dripping from the crusts of crumby whole wheat.
Purple, like the scratchy wool blanket
Keeping me warm in the winter
Or wrapped like a sausage for story time.
Purple, like the old dog collar
Belonging to my first love
The first death I sobbed over
Until I was pale and shaky
A ghost of a person
With black tears streaking down my cheeks.
Purple, like the shadows of sad times
That caused me to regress into that little girl
Curled into a protective ball
Wailing in her mother’s arms again
Just as I had so long ago.
Purple, like the bruises that linger
Still sore even after the wounds have healed
And knowing everything will never be the same
As it is impossible to forget.
I am purple.