_ _ _ _ _ _ _ ;

.

Red hair wearing down the yellow bones in my body.
My teeth clenching down, white enamel grinding against eachother.
Trembles most my blue-purple veins,
leaving my hands trembling with anxiety.
The brown coffee stains on the mugs need to be refilled, and the decorative wreath to be taken down.
My bedroom gleams with unoriginality of a typical teenage girls room; it*s my sanctuary.
It holds the memories of a boy and I.
Some not to be repressed.
This intense owl obsession gets the happiness of this livid space.
You*re a true blue, just like your favorite.
I*m a burnt orange or a mustard yellow, and on a good day, I promise I*ll be as turquoise as the water.
Together our bones will collide, they wont be yellow and frail, and our weak enameled teeth will still be white.
They will still be smiling.
We change, change with our “colors.”