Golden. Golden skin. The color of a burnt sunset. A magnificent gold. An aura that made the skies blush with pride.
And I was in love.
The color ran through my hair and bit at my ankles. Like wind through trees.
The color smelt like spring, and a thousand kisses, promising redemption against lost love. My lost love.
But, the trees bring renewal and the earth brought me not another love. But a thing. A feeling. Like a tarnished diamond set in gold. The skies made me a gift, painted me a sunset make of gold and silver and many deep hues to mourn the love I lost. But the colors also celebrated the life I found. A true love I'd never part with: the smell of twilight.
And it was then that I realized my purpose. To love and to be loved was never enough for me.
So, to return the gift to the skies, I gave them my life. That I may paint sunsets for those who have lost love too. And so, when I hear the cries of heartbreak, I paint the skies. I paint them like dirty rivers. Gold. I paint them as they smell. Gold. I paint them as the color of tears. Gold. And maybe, one day, gold will be enough.
~comment your thoughts, I'd love to hear!~