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to the man in white
the white room
the white smothered them
in its cold, antiseptic breath that seeped into their own
the sheet's stark whiteness bore witness to a crime scene
one where someone had fled
not wanting to see the yellow of hollowed cheeks
the whiteness that glazes eyes,
now worms and writhes
across chests crimsoned in curious cacophonies,
ventilator rasps unfurl
pleas
hands pressed to knees
heaves into sleeves
oh my, why, all for my
Yéyé
observations from a red-handed room
subject designation- shame-faced coward from the man in white
subject dictation- she denies, denies, denies so she lies, lies, lies
subject denunciation- callously cueing crumpling and crying as if she lay dying
the grey room, my room
when the night swallowed you whole
I wonder did you feel it, did the cold scorch your insides too?
13 going on 30 but I knew
reprises from the wicked night's clutches are far and few
the howling wind could not hide
shaking silhouettes spurning haunting guises, glances of goodbyes
the yellow-ing room
I lie beneath frozen folds where my fingers unfurl
yellowing furrows of correspondence
crayons, colors cycled from me- curious child to you, childlike curiosity
in pink, dancing pandas, my favorite vibe at five
in blue, sliver of smiles shared at nine
the littlest princess beside your knight
kingdom come and crowned in now glossy eyes
in these colorless phases, storms bluster inside, blister insides
the blue room
when i saw you for the first time
you still looked like you
but something in my father’s voice
tore tissues to shriveled clouds
dotted in disarrays amongst blueing pews
a week after Christmas
sadness soaked through
the littlest queen, crestfallen without a crown, clutching her black gown
returns to the white room
here I am again
bearing entrance to the white room in black
three bows forward but one turn back
selfish staggering to my sword, blue imbued
white-tainted shields have waned, weakening after weeks
I envision splashes of color to enliven these white canvases
strong as I pledge
to the man in white
to the stain I wore on my sleeve
I’m sorry if I could not be strong earlier
know, I will always love you
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I wrote this piece to commemorate the liveliness and just exuberance my late grandpa had for life. He was truly a young soul and one that shared his love for fairytales with me at every opportunity. His passing made me question and slowly reject the romanticized vision of life I had in my head but with time, I began to embrace fairytales again and bring new matured color to my writing. One of the biggest themes that are present throughout this piece is color as I wanted to capture the different stages and intensity of my emotions.