The Colour Yellow

Another poem not based on personal experience, just a feeling I had that started turning into ideas. Interestingly, I knew basically how I wanted this to go, but had difficulty writing it on the computer. Once I switched to pen and paper the words flowed much more easily.

I used to love the colour yellow.
You remembered that,
and you always brought me daffodils instead of roses.
Your praise fell on my ears like the soft summer rains that were falling when we first kissed,
and with your love
the flowers won't the only thing that bloomed.
It had been so long since I felt wanted.
I climbed so willingly onto the pedestal you built for me,
and I came to love the colour white
because it featured in all of my fantasies.
I could see myself walking down the aisle with you,
dreamed of white chiffon cakes and thick vanilla frosting
and the moment I said I do.
When that moment finally came
it felt unreal, as though I was only borrowing this happiness.
And when that veil finally lifted,
I saw what you never showed before,
and that's when I stopped loving the colour blue
because the first thing you destroyed was my favourite blue dress,
the one that showed off my figure.
You didn't want anyone else to look at me;
you wanted me covered up.
And you did some of that yourself
by covering me in bruises.
I didn't need that dress anymore to see blue against my skin.
In the end, I came to love red,
the colour of the heart that let you down
and left you gasping for breath.
The colour that finally drained from your face as I made the call,
knowing it was already to late.
And now I love the colour black,
the bag that zipped over your face
and set me free.
The black I wore to your funeral,
that kept everyone from seeing
I finally had colour in my life again.