White. A blank canvas, waiting to be to be lavished by a painter’s brushstrokes to come alive.

​

She wakes up to the sun shining outside,
Stretches out all her not sore muscles
Smiling as she feels her unbruised skin
She pulls on her white cashmere sweater,
Admiring her reflection in the not cracked mirror

​

She pulls open her door that isn’t locked
Skips down stairs that don’t creak
She grabs her untorn, clean white book bag,
The perfect white image, walking along
Heading out the door to ride a bus that always comes

​

At school, she is surrounded by all of her friends
She is charismatic, well-liked by everyone passing by
She does not sit alone at lunch
Laughing and sharing white popcorn that doesn’t leave her hungry
She is fully embraced by love.

​

At home, she runs up the stairs that don’t creak
Heads through her unlocked door.
Her room greets her cheerfully
Smooth white walls, radiating with bliss
She falls onto her not hard mattress, covered by a not thin duvet
Face turning towards the not cold sunshine.

​

Gray (Mixed). A color without color, neutral, achromatic.

​

Storm clouds forming outside of her window.
The golden hue of her room (closet) slowly dissipates to gray
Her room (closet) turns into a cozy (cramped) sanctuary
Too soon, the rain lashes out at her
Pixies attacking the house with their little silver daggers

​

She turns away from the window.
Inside, there is peace.
Inside, she can find her fairy lights
She can find the polaroids of her and her friends
She can find her comforting (hard) bed with thick (thin) comforters (sheets) that always (never)
keep her warm.
She can find everything that she loves.
She can find the courage to ignore the raging storm outside
But the sound of the rain forces its way into her head anyway.

​

Black. The result of the absence of light

​

She wakes suddenly to a knocking at her door.
It is dark and daunting outside her window.
It is dark and dangerous inside her window.
It is dark and dreadfully real inside her head.
This is always the time when the fairy lights and comforters and friends and popcorn and school
forsake her.
This is always the time when the rags and hunger and pain and nightmares and fear resume.

​

The leather boots outside her door are black.
She is surprised they have not been stained dark red.
She knows what is coming
She had known since the last time it happened
She always knew that it would keep happening

But she is never prepared

​

Her mind is the color of fear.
Mostly black.
There is a bit of white
The white always comes, but only to taunt her.
Sometimes to show her what she thinks her world is.
Always to push her into what she knows her world is.

​

When the key clicks.
The white fades to gray.
When the door bursts open
The gray fades into the black
When the belt comes whipping down
The black fades into her screams.