Colour/Falling

With that, colour streamed in front of my eyes, ears, and mouth. My senses were heightened with each individual tone. The marigold yellow was loud, yet tasted fragile. Yellow, you see, is happiness. Oil seed rape in a field to warm sunrises. But red tasted like blood. Crimson red looked like passion and smelt like fear. I knew blue would be silent. Every shade of blue I felt. Blue was the shade of my bathroom. Cerulean blue. Cold and silent. I lay there, letting the condensation on the side of the bath touch my bare skin. If you looked at me now the spilt rosé  on the linoleum floor would match my mad eyes. Mad with the tears and rubbed pink eyelids. You were once here. I couldn't find my wine glass - it was now splintered between my fingers.


Still from 'Lolita' 1997