As per Mona that is the Friday word, to be used in your post in anyway you see fit. This post has 3 parts. Two of them have a dark edge, if you were hoping to get warm and fuzzy this Friday, scroll down to the third part. I just peeked at her post and I am like wow, I am interpreting this so differently.
Color(s) Of My Country And Those That Fell In A War That Rages On...
3000 + and counting
Color Of Pain..
He raised the glass to his lips once again
Imbibing the bitter spirit, feeling its warmth spread within
As his hand tightened around the glass
The knuckles white
It seemed harder to take the edge off
His hand tightened further… as his thoughts drifted
What color would someone use he wondered to paint
..A planet being raped slowly but steadily
..A country going mad and seeming to lose its soul
..Letters and “I love you” going unanswered
..The ineffectuality of someone unable to stop the abuse of a sibling
..Of the scars left behind, wounds that never healed
..Of a loved one who you could never tell how much he meant for them
..Made his life more full by just being there
..Altruism of his parents
..Their increasing frailness a reminder of the inexorable march of time
..The struggle to say what he felt and that nothing had changed yet so much had
...That giving it all was all he had left, he did not know another way
..The desolation he felt when he tried to believe in a higher being
He heard the crack of the glass before he felt the pain in the palm of his hand.
He looked down thru eyes fast welling with tears
The shards of glass changing as he tried to blink away the tears
The rivulets of blood starting to run down his hand
He did not move
As the color of his pain ebbed from him and he closed his eyes.
Color Of Love (This is all over the place!)
I painted her as I saw her in my mind. The brush strokes came easy as did the colors that made her seem lifelike.
She was tilting her head to her right a bit, as she always did when she was about to say something interesting, funny, profound or profane.
The way the nostrils of her lovely nose flared slightly, and the beginning of a smile made her mouth curl upwards in a cute sort of way. I loved how her dark brown hair fell to one side, with a few strands astray.
There was also the dimple on her left cheek.
Her eyes were bluish grey and they seem to reflect her witticism, her intellect and the confidence of someone sure of herself.
To me they changed color ..at times ..they took on the light brown warmth like her unquestioning love.
She looked at me with the same honest open look, it broke my heart every time I failed
At times they seemed to darken with passion and a sensuality that was full of things unsaid and promises of things to come.
She had a white bathrobe on, that had slipped off her shoulders ..revealing in the mirror behind her a lovely neck and a elegant, curvy back.
Her skin seemed flawless except for a mole on the right side of her neck.
I was lost in her and what she embodied when I felt someone next to me.
“Who is she” .. she said, as she slipped her hand in mine.
“She is a composite”, I said as I turned to her, “of all the women in my life who I know, or think I know, or am getting to know. They are the ones I adore and love and the ones that make me tick.”
“Ah..ha painted in the color of love?” she said as turned to face me.
“Something like that:..yes”
I smiled at her, and drew her to me, she rested her face against my shoulder in that all to familiar manner. And as she looked up she nuzzled the side of my face with her nose and wrinkled it as she felt the bristles.
I kissed the tip of her nose, and then closed my eyes as our foreheads touched our arms still around each other.
I could feel our breaths mingle, it all felt so unhurried.. I had forgotten what that felt like so close to me. It was sometimes lost in the mundaneness of life. There was so much of her that I could feel in that quiet moment, making me aware yet again why she is the love of my life.