Fleeting Colors

The moon; Reversed

     The rain smells nice.

     A small feeling of liveliness comes as I inhale next to the bay window. Relaxing, even.
But not enough.
     All the colours ; the blues, pinks, greens, even the coral-y shades and the ones we looked at in pre-school, lets not forget about the ones in the flowers across the dozens of gardens downtown, yes, all those colours; They've faded. Faded away along with my sense of alive. The way seven-year-old you felt on your birthday, or the rush of rolling down a hill in the springtime, long car trips in the middle of the night; It's just.. gone. And i think I left with it.
     The colours are all dimmed now, the lights only left on so I can study them closer, to see if maybe just maybe, I could see them brighter again. Even if it was just one, yellow, maybe, I would be satisfied enough to turn off the lights and let myself drift away from it all completely.
     But no. It seems I let myself fall too far this time.
     As of now, sitting in this window is the closest thing I have to feeling something, anything. I stand up, and look farther out the window, searching for something I can't quite place, but notice nothing.
     Nothing but the lonely call of the wind, crying with the rain.
     I think it's sad.
     I guess it's finally all gone.
     I walk into the kitchen to peek out of the other window, trying to find something more, but no matter how hard I look, all I can see is the wind blowing through the trees, gasping through rain drops, crying out to the world. I can feel it, what he wants.
     He wants a friend, I think.
     I'm just not sure it'd work out.