YELLOW

Violet.

Violet Green. Such an ugly name to give to a child who would have to suffer with this as long as they could bare. Maybe for the rest of their days? Having the thought of being called after not one, but two colors? Colors?! My mother thought she was a skillful women naming her child after two shamefully grotesque colors. Violet, a purple. In which way can you feel in a purple? Have a sense of texture or light to a certain night, mother? The only thing you can make with "Violet" is the flimsy, cliché "roses are red and violets are blue."
But they aren't really blue, are they? Lets face it, my mother isn't the most blessed women (feature-wise) passing down her "strong genes" she would say. So I'd have to bare with such terrible complexions and naming your child after a horrendous color and having a second name as a generational name of the color vomit. She is making her helpless child with already hard flaring features like a strong nose that you could point out in a swarm of human beings, red oozing bumps on her skin to have it almost qualified as it's own nationalized park and not to mention the sasquatch-like genes (that he himself could be my father) for the hair that sprouts in places it should not be. My hair is quite a floppy brown mess and spreads as if each follicle itself had a mind of its own trying to gain freedom from my head. My eyes nothing but a pool of actual shit or so I thought. He said, I sort of have beautiful eyes, at least that's what he used to tell me. He used to tell me that my eyes were like coffee. They would jump start you awake at how beautiful they were to stare into.
     "When the light hits your face just right, they would sing all on their own." So in love you could suffocate in it. Just seeing his face would make my day brighter. My name was terrible, but from his mouth, from his voice all together, it was like dripping fresh honey straight into your mouth. The way his hair was cut simply yet complimented his every tone. His smile that shines so brightly you could tell that even the sun herself was jealous and his eyes. God, his eyes. The color of the ocean, I swore that I saw the waves crash once. Too bad now that's all I have left of that. Fleeting moment.