What is your favourite colour and why?

I’m the color of the soft grass inviting you to picnic, the color of the ferns you put behind your ear as you giggle and twirl with your friends.

I’m the color that stands by your side, even when you veer from mine. I’m the color that’s muted, but not dull. The color that listens without worry, and the color that just wants the best.

I’m the color rain clings to on a dreary October morning; the color that greets you as you open the curtains to let the light shine through.

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I’m the eyeshadow you take out once a year for Halloween, forgetting about soon after because I’m not cool. I’m merely there, waiting anxiously to be seen, but never being heard.

I’m not quite blue or yellow, but I’m told I wouldn’t exist without them. I’m the color of life, but yet the color of envy and disgust overwhelm me each day anew.

I’m the walls you paint over, flushing me out because I no longer serve you a purpose; shutting me out because I’m no longer “cool”.

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I’m the color of your past, not your present and maybe not your future. But I’m the color that waits. You might not need me now, but I’ll be here when you do, welcoming you into my warm embrace as the wind howls outside.

I’m the jealousy bubbling within you as you scroll through social media. I’m the envy causing you to pick apart every little detail of someone else’s life, gasping for air as you tirelessly tear yourself down in competition to others.

I’m childish. You’ve grown apart from me, and I’m left in your path of excellence, wishing for just one more chance to say thank you.

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They say I’m everywhere, but I feel myself slipping into the abyss of nothingness right now. They say I’m only frozen, that I’ll be back and better in a few months - but we do this every year and I’m tired.

I’m the color of the grass slipping through your fingers, but also of the stone gently wrapped around your wrist. I’m the color of calm and growth, but sometimes you look at me as if I’m a monster chasing you.

What am I?

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I’m the color sitting in the office listening to you tell me why you hate me, being slapped with the name B2AC88, nothing more and nothing less.

I’m the clover you carelessly pluck from the ground, discarding me as soon as I don’t give you what you want.