I See Colors | Taegi

two

Before he could open his mouth,
   a group of students enter the room
   and crowd around him.

   They ask questions
   that blur out mine and
   leave me feeling
   stranded.

   I remember when
   people acted like this to me.
   It overwhelmed me
   because I thought I had to be perfect
   all the time
   so I could still feel like
   there were still people
   who cared.

   But when people saw I was bullied,
   suddenly, they thought I was weird
   because to them
   I was excited about things
   that seemed meaningless.

   It's ironic
   that we live in a world of imperfection
   that still yearns for something
   to be perfect.

   I notice he doesn't respond to them.
   He only stares at them
   with his cold look underneath his dark hair.
   It reminds me of the sun
   shining behind some blinds.
   I can't help but wonder if the temperature matters
   when the sun blinds us.

   They ask him about everything,
   like interviewers trying to get gossip
   on a celebrity.
   They ask what his old school was like.
   If he got suspended
   or moved from another area.
   If he's ever dated anyone before.
   If he plays piano.

   Some tastes and textures.
   Some colors.
   They aren't as overwhelming as before
   but I no longer have the want to speak.
   All I can do is listen
   to a one sided conversation.

   After so many questions are thrown at him
   they finally leave,
   too frustrated about his silence to continue
pretending to be interviewers.

   I watch them leave
   and see the door close.
   Then I see him stand up from the piano
   and walk over to the door.
   He looks at me
   with his hand holding onto the doorknob.

"The answer seems obvious now, right?"

He leaves before I find the words to respond.

I'm once again alone.
Thinking about him.

   His voice,
   as unintentionally as his stare,
   is the opposite to me
   from his appearance.

   It is a shade of blue
   that has a slight hint of purple
   and tastes like
   the soft mint and vanilla candy
   Mama gave me for dessert
   when I was younger.

I stay here for a little longer
until the warning bell rings.
I quickly put the guitar against the wall
and go to my next class,
wishing the silence could last
a little longer.

   When I get home,
   I search up the color that belonged
   to his voice.
   When I find it,
   my mind immediately thinks of him
   and I say the name aloud
   so I don't forget.

"Cornflower."