we are a process and an unfolding; you were an answer to prayer.
the colour started when we first broke; broke into a world formed perfect but made and caught in pain and ugliness. the color came when we first cried and the world knew we were alive.
but color fades over time and without a new coat of paint it is easy for us to crack and peel. we folded back our skin of good intentions and when you let me in i let you in too. then the color burst like the world has never seen before and will never see again.
but we are still delicate and fragile and our hearts are easily blinded and broken, and this world is not the place for colours as pure and perfect as ours. we held each other's hearts out in our hands to hand them back, the colors bleeding, but we're holding them still. i don't think we've figured out how to go on without each other.
do not worry, dear little friend; the colours will burst again. at a different time, in another way, for a different reason, but the colours will come again. we will not bleed forever. hope.