a character study in color theory

yellow is the color of a girl who doesn’t walk with her head down / it’s a loud color / spit in your face color / spray paint on the walls color / but not the color of a girl who is afraid to talk louder than the music. / one time, a kid in my class was matching colors with people’s auras, and she named me grey / girl who fills cracks in the walls / so it looks seamless--but you never see her. / and when she talks you’ll always talk over her, / then name her grey. / so far from yellow that when people ask her her favorite color and she tells you yellow you’ll say: 

“that doesn’t seem like you.” 

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i’m standing in a sunflower field, and a bee lands on my shoulder. / it’s cloudy, and my pale skin drowns in the light / i notice how the sunflowers stand out against the fields / how they are the subject of the photos my best friend takes of me / and i am merely the background / yellow is good at that--stealing the spotlight, i mean / the kind of color that demands your attention / that begs to be known / i clipped one of those sunflowers / cradled it on the drive home / pressed it in a book, and hung it on my wall. 

there’s this girl in one of my classes / she’s yellow / everyone knows she’s yellow / she’s one of those girls that makes a color her personality 

and I wish I could be her. 

she’s a bubbly yellow. / a happy all the time yellow. / all picnics in the park / follow my pinterest board / pick me girl / kind of yellow, and it’s like she was born from the sun. / she is the kind of girl that would never look me in the eye / and here i am typing her into a poem on a Tuesday afternoon. 

i'm a Leo / a fire sign / supposedly always the life of the party / always high energy / i don’t think i’ve ever been to a real party--not like i would go if i was invited anyways / i used to think zodiac signs could be accurate until I met myself / we keep astrology books on our coffee table / they call me an exception. / call me boring. / they tell me I was born at the wrong time / say I should never have been born. 

i don’t talk to astrology books anymore. 

i don’t tell people yellow is my favorite color anymore / i tell them it’s purple / something so clearly opposite of yellow, even the theory of color obeys their differences. 

i’ve always hated purple.

it’s sickly-sweet cough syrup color / all church wine, no buzz / royalty, but only in the metaphorical way / purple smells like a nursing home--probably tastes like one too. 

it’s funny to think about how we all may see different versions of the same color. / my yellow could be your purple / we could all love the same color / just trapped by the confines of language / of perception. / our lives are a fishbowl. 

i have a wall in my room that i decorate with posters / and paper clippings / and letters / and other pastable objects. 

when people see it, they also see yellow. / not because there’s a print of marilyn monroe in a bikini, / not because there’s sunflowers fields / and national park postcards. / not because of the doodle art / or the “perks of being a wallflower” poster / or because half of the words are in french. 

people tell me my wall is yellow because that’s what i named it.