There once lived a boy trapped by monochromatic realities,
All his life he was deprived of color.
Never vibed with violets,
Never tasted teals,
Or amassed any amaranthine.
This boy was colorless,
And as things without color would do he would often black out,
Drift through the bland white normalcy of life without any recollection for months.
Until he finally found it.
Color.
It wasn't anything spectacular.
Just a muddy, and worn brown.
Anyone else might have called it ugly,
The boy called it ugly,
The boy hated it until he could hate no longer,
And so the boy loved it.
It wasn't anything spectacular.
Just a ruddy, but warm brown.
Anyone else might have called it ugly,
The boy called it beautiful,
The boy explored it until he could explore no longer,
And so he found his next color.
It wasn't anything spectacular.
Because spectacular could not begin to describe it.
All the wonders of the world could not compare to this lovely sight.
Like droplets of ice, too pure and perfectly formed for this world.
Cold, yet alluring, a cerulean enigma.
Blue.
And so the boy fell in love yet again.
It was like nothing he had ever experienced.
He couldn't feel his fingers around this blue,
The icy sensation chilling but attracting him with every moment.
He wanted to completely give himself to this blue,
It wasn't anything spectacular.
Because spectacular could not begin to describe it.
All the wonders in the world could not compare to this lovely color.
Like droplets of ice, too cold and perfectly formed for this boy.
So alluring, yet so cold, a Cerulean enigma.
Blue.
And so this icy color drifted away yet again.
It was like nothing this boy had ever experienced,
He couldn't feel his fingers away from this blue.
The icy sensation chilling, but damning him every moment.
He still wanted to completely give himself to this blue,
And would for a while,
He loved blue until he could no longer love,
And so his next color found him.
It wasn't anything spectacular.
Because it was breathtaking, each moment an explosion of vibrancy.
Red.
Fiery passion burst and birthed from Crimson lust,
The color of pure love.
And so pure love had loved the boy.
And the boy was amazed,
But the boy could not return this fiery passion to love.
And so he died slowly.
It wasn't anything spectacular.
Because it was breath taking, each word another drop of velvet, stealing oxygen.
Red.
Simmering passion burst and birthed from Crimson fury,
The color of pure rage.
And so pure rage had scorned the boy,
And the boy was amazed,
But the boy could not return this fiery passion to rage.
And so he lived slowly, more cautious everyday.
Red had left the boy battered and bruised.
Bleeding and bloody,
Spidery veins kissed Crimson the only color red knew.
And the boy suffered.
Until he didn't.
It was something spectacular.
Not because words could even describe it, but because the boy was mesmerized.
Golden rays of sunflower filled the boy's cracks and healed all the damage done by colors.
The boy had become a chromophore.
And as tantalizing tidbits of chroma had often flitted past the open slit of his lips.
Only staying long enough for him to get a taste.
He finally found a color that belonged to him as much as he belonged to it.
A burning intensity of daffodil and lemon.
Yellow.
His yellow, there was no doubt about it.
The space between their faces burned with the intensity of possibility.
When their eyes met, it was a hungry gaze,
Each set looking to consume every little detail of the other's.
The boy had a soft smile,
And like sunlight, yellow could not help but warm his insides.
He couldn't help but understand this color,
And want to be near it.
It was something spectacular,
And it always would be.
There once lived a boy trapped by multi-chromatic realities.
All his life he was surrounded by color,
He was bathed in blues,
Covered in Crimson,
And gave himself to golden.
This boy wasn't always colorful.
But as things with color would often do, he changed.