RED.

When you remember how your life met mine,
what do you see?
How does your picture differ from my own?
Would we even recognize each other’s finished pieces? 

Shades & hues I use 
to portray details from our past,
noticeably contrast 
with tones in your own depiction –
both of us adamant 
our interpretation of the shared memory 
is truth.
I ask you to put down a brush dipped in bright green,
because our first kiss was surely
August yellow –
sweeter than Peruvian skies.
My old apartment,
deep & royal, like the queen/size 
purple sheets we’d pull overhead
a twin size bed
to hide under cover of darkness,
midnight black –
safe from the blinding white light of day’s grace.
-
You are baby blue. 
I am ash gray.
We are burning red.

Tell me again, 
your story of us
and the color of my heart –
for I dearly love to paint.