FOREVER YOUNG.

I’m not ripe enough to tell all of my life story So sometimes it writes it’s self as water soaked in salt It laughs out of my mouth Or rhymes a dance out of my body

My second grade teacher liked to ask us, “How do you feel today, on a scale of one to ten?” Ten always meant I’m super, thank you and one was always not today, Mrs. MacAuley, not today. But I never liked numbers, they would always twist and rebel against my mind so I chose to speak in colors instead.January third - I am the color of mint chocolate chip ice cream but I’ve eaten all the chocolate chips. I am calm. February seventh - I am a bruise of blues and violets today. I think it would be best if I sat by the window. These are unhappy colors. April eleventh - I am turquoise, I am magenta, I am every color in the rainbow. April thirtieth - I am gray, I am silent. May first - I am orange, the color of melting creamsicles on a beach in July. June twelfth - I am as yellow as the school bus that will bring me home to summer. I am free. Twelve years later, I still use colors. The winter makes me feel cobalt blue, the ocean turns me a seafoam green. Violets and purples leave me uneasy and scarlet is a fever of fury. Some nights I drown in shades of navy, denim, and cornflower but other nights I meditate in forests of harlequin and shamrock. But you, you leave me a blinding white followed by a soft yellow: the color of sunlight after a period of darkness.