There was a time in my life when I swore I would never see color. The hues of blues in the summer sky cut sharply by the yellows and oranges of the burning sun would never leave me speechless. The deep red of the blood that poured out of my many wounds would never even render a gasp from my lips at their sight. I could revel in the smell of a lavender field, yes, but their purple flowers that began their journey in the cool breeze of spring would never delight my grey eyes.
The words you once whispered across my skin, raising hairs and spotting me with goosebumps, danced their way out my barely open window. The sentences, tied together with breaths of beauty and promises of a whirlwind love, frolicked across the meadows and filled the bird’s lungs with a new tune. Setting wind upon sails, they travelled far and wide, erupting fiery volcanoes and beckoning the sun out from behind the despairing clouds. As you whispered, I looked into your eyes, and saw the golden flecks amongst the emeralds staring back at me, daring me to see the world in a new light. And now my mind, saturated in emerald and laced with the golds of hope and new perspectives, barely remembers a time when the world seemed so black and white.