The Color of the Sky


2013-11-16 07-1.48.55

With excuses as background noise, she looked into his eyes, imagined an attempt at the truth. What would it cost them; a well-groomed lie tired of cherry wood and tempers, that soft white nightlight by the bed? There were cobwebs along the corners and baseboard as thick as her wishes. They stood there together, faces full of night sky, bodies as wilted stems.

The song along this shadow seemed a high price to pay for sketched bliss. She could color outside the lines; tell him he could have the sun. She could walk away and leave a trail of light behind. He could want or follow, stay in his own clouds and gray, or let go, let the truth fall beyond his shoulders, rub the sores from his sleeve.

They stood just a breath away from each other, about the width of the wooden plank beneath their feet. Anxious, they both rolled their heels along the cracks and creak. Her tongue stopped just short of this and that, some bright sky gathered in the space between them. Their shadows shaped like forgiveness, their words sounded without bend. He told her about the color of the sky, about sunrise and secrets. She knew the plum of daybreak, a brightening, an end.


    1. Thank you. I tried to ease into that calm, tried to convey in the writing the human condition, the acceptance of things, the beautiful complexity of love. I did not know where this piece was headed when I began writing it but I’m happy where it resolved. I’m glad you enjoyed it.

      1. I just love those natural unforced resolutions. I become as pleased as punch and as excited as a little child with presents. :)

        Have a relaxing evening. :)

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