If emotions were colors

I would learn not to assume what a person means.

It seems only to hurt me more.

What would be the color of joy?

Pure joy?

The color of a morning sunrise.

Or the coldest, cloudless day.

Or the promise that comes with a rainbow.

It would be so easy to hide.

To wash my face and see my grief melt

Into the sink like paint.

You would never know you hurt me.

What color is hate?

Black as the lonesomest heart.

Why can’t I be more like the sunrise?

Make me laugh,

Truly laugh.

From the deepest part of me.

What are these blue streaks on my face?

The tears of my loneliness.

Fill my heart again,

and not with worries of tomorrow’s bread,

and let me sleep in peace

as the sun goes down in it’s beautiful hews.